


Kiss the Baker

by Ltleflrt



Series: Kiss the Baker [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Artist Dean, Awkward Flirting, Baker Castiel, Bottom Dean, Christmas, Cop Dean, Cop Dean Winchester, Dean Thinks He is Heterosexual, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Homophobic John, Homophobic Language, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Protective Dean, Stalking, Thanksgiving, Top Castiel, Vandalism, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 112,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltleflrt/pseuds/Ltleflrt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo is pregnant and craving something a little bit unusual.  When she sends Dean on a mission to find her some chocolate cake donuts with bacon sprinkles, he's sure that he'll fail.  Luckily his partner Benny comes to his rescue and introduces him to a quirky little bakery that sells all kinds of weird (and delicious!) baked goods.  And they do special orders!</p><p>Dean finds excuses to keep going back, and Castiel finds excuses to keep giving him special treats.</p><p>Author's Note 10/22/2015 - I want to rework this for publishing.  If you like this story, please download a PDF because I'll have to delete it eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started this story in April 2014 for my DeanCas Big Bang entry, but I couldn't decide how I wanted to handle a certain plot point so I set it aside. I'm working on it again, and since I don't have to keep it super secret until it's finished, I'm just going to start posting it :D
> 
> This is un-beta'd and is also my first attempt to write a story in present tense. I write everything in past tense, and this story is basically an experiment (and an exercise in frustration). I am sure I will fuck up. Please feel free to point out the spots where I accidentally float off into past tense. 
> 
> I will add tags as I go along. But for those of you who care, this fic will probably be primarily Bottom!Dean with possible switching. The abuse and stalking are not between Dean and Castiel. They're disgustingly cute together. There is Past Dean/Lisa, and Temporary Castiel/Michael.
> 
> Also I made [a playlist](http://8tracks.com/ltleflrt/kiss-the-baker-1) of the songs I listened to while writing it :D

_Ramble on and now’s the time, the time is now to sing my song-_  

From the driver’s seat, Benny turns to Dean and lifts an eyebrow in question when Dean doesn’t react to the ringtone. 

 _I’m goin’ ‘round the world, I’ve got to find my girl, on my way-_  

Dean ignores his partner’s irritated huff and begins to drum his hands on the dash. Letting his eyes fall shut, he sings along. He doesn’t give a damn if he is off key. 

 _I’ve been this way for ten years, Ramble on-_  

“Brother, are you going to answer that?”

“Shut up it’s my favorite song.” 

 _Gotta find the queen of all my dreams-_  

The chorus begins to repeat, and Dean finally relents. Swiping a thumb across the screen without looking at the caller ID, he gives Benny an unrepentant grin and answers it. “What’s up, bitch?” 

“Dean Winchester, did you just call me a bitch?” 

At the unexpected voice of his sister-in-law Dean fumbles the phone, dropping it in his lap. He curses at himself as he scrambles to pick it back up, and glances at the caller ID to see it isn’t Sam’s name on the display. He crams the phone back to his ear. “Oh hey, Jo. Uh… I thought it was Sam.” 

Benny glances at him from the driver’s seat and snorts a soft laugh. Dean lifts his middle finger in a silent message for him to mind his own damn business. That only earns him another chuckle, but Benny turns his attention back to the road. 

Jo’s voice is cheerful. “Yeah, I kinda figured. I’m the one who changed your ringtone settings.” 

“And why would you do that Joanna Beth?” Dean frowns and tries to remember when she would have gotten her hands on his phone. He has no memory of any situation in which she could possibly have had the chance. _Devious woman._  

“Because you are more likely to answer my calls that way,” Jo says sweetly. 

That was normally true. While on duty, Dean doesn’t answer his phone for very many people, but Jo had recently moved up on his priority list. “That’s not fair, Jo,” he grumbles as he slips down in his seat and tries to ignore the burn in his cheeks from getting scolded in front of his partner. It's not like Benny can hear Jo's side of the conversation, but _Dean knows_ and that’s bad enough. “I would have answered the phone for you even if I didn’t think it was Sammy calling.” 

“What? Because I’m pregnant?” A less than delicate snort comes across the line and he can very clearly picture her rolling her big brown eyes at him. “Remind me to punch you the next time I see you. Which will hopefully be as soon as you get off work.” 

Dean files the reminder away under _not likely_ , and focuses on the important part of what she was saying.  “Do you need something?” 

“Bring me donuts.” 

He blinks. There is a switch in his brain, and it is still set to Protective Older Brother, and he can’t quite flip it over to Delivery Boy. “I’m sorry?” 

“Donuts, Dean. Chocolate. Cake. Donuts. With bacon sprinkles.” 

Dean casts a wide-eyed _what the hell do I do_ look at Benny who is busy watching where he is driving, and not paying attention. He slips further down in his seat, although he has no idea why since Jo isn’t actually present to glare holes through him. “Uh, Jo, I don’t think you can get bacon sprinkles on cake donuts-” 

“Tell them I’m pregnant.” 

“This is one of those crazy craving things, isn’t it?” 

“Dean, if you start accusing me of being a crazy pregnant woman, so help me God, I will-” 

He cuts her off quickly before she can vocalize a threat that she was likely to keep. “I didn’t say that! Jesus, Jo. I’ll get your damn donuts.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” Her voice drips with satisfaction, and not for the first time Dean wonders what the hell his brother has gotten himself into by marrying Joanna Beth Harvelle. 

Feeling a little safer now that she sounds pleased, Dean sits back up in his seat. “Why isn’t Sam getting your donuts? Shouldn’t he be playing delivery boy for you? This thing is his fault.” 

"Well it's not _completely_ his fault." 

"That's gross," Dean deadpans. In his mind, Sammy and Jo will always be twelve and ten years old, and he does not want to think about them any other way. As far as he's concerned, the stork is delivering this damn baby to them. 

Jo laughs at his discomfort, but then a sigh fills the airwaves between them. “He’s working on that damn Crowley case, and he’s going to be at the office late.” 

Dean grimaces, and feels guilty on his brother’s behalf. He’s happy that Sammy is working on such a high profile case because it means extra money and hopefully a promotion, but it was really bad timing. His protective instincts rear their ugly head. “Don’t worry, Jo. You’ll be ok. I’ll get your donuts, and we’ll watch the game tonight.” 

He shoots a quick glance at Benny again. He’d been planning on watching the game with him, but if his sister-in-law needed him- 

Benny nods without taking his eyes off the road. A smile plays around his lips, and Dean relaxes at the silent acknowledgement. 

He knows he made the right decision when he hears the tiny trace of relief in Jo’s voice. Anyone else would miss it, but he'd known her since she was in diapers, and he could always see past the tough girl mask she put on for everyone else. “Thanks Dean. That sounds great. When do you think you’ll be here?” 

They talk for a few more minutes, making arrangements for dinner. When Dean finally flips his phone shut, he lets out a small groan and bangs his head against the back of his seat. “She wants chocolate cake donuts. With bacon sprinkles. Is that an actual thing?” It sounds fucking delicious, and if he finds some he’s going to get extra for himself. “Where the hell am I going to find something like that?” He rolls his head back and forth against the seat’s headrest. “When Jo kills me, I’m coming back to haunt her ass for sending me on a wild goose chase.” 

Benny flashes him one of his small secretive smiles. “Don’t you worry, none. I know a place.” Dean twists his head just enough to see Benny out of the corner of his eye. “That sounds shady.” 

Benny’s low, rumbling chuckle fills the car. “Naw, brother. It’s just a bakery that I’ve been to a few times.” 

“You been perpetuating the Cops Love Donuts Myth?” 

“Shut the hell up,” Benny bites off. “Cops _do_ love donuts.” 

Dean scoffs and shifts in his seat. “Not me.” He grins. “I prefer pie.” 

“You’re abnormal, brother.” 

Dean chuckles, but doesn’t argue. He shifts in his seat again and watches out the passenger window as Benny turns onto a side street with significantly less traffic. His smile fades as he watches buildings, cars, and pedestrians slide past. He knows Jo isn’t very far along in her pregnancy, but it really bothers him that Sam is leaving her alone like this. And isn’t the first trimester actually the most delicate time? 

What if she falls? What if that monster dog of theirs jumps on her and injures her? He pulls out his phone and thumbs a message over the virtual keys. 

Dean:  _Dude u need 2 take better care of my sister._  

Sam: _Is Jo ok??_  

Sam’s answer is so fast that Dean winces. He didn’t mean to worry him. He taps out another message quickly. 

Dean: _She’s fine. im going 2 watch the game with her 2nite._  

Sam’s thankfulness is effusive, even through text, all his words spelled out and punctuated correctly. Dean shoots back a quick _ur_ _welcum_ , grinning when he gets back a _you’re disgusting, dude_. He tucks his phone into his shirt pocket, feeling a little better knowing that Sam’s aware that he’s a huge dumbass for leaving his wife home alone in the evenings. Dean is more than willing to hang out with Jo while Sammy gets his work done, but not without giving Sam shit for it. 

He shifts in his seat again when the car pulls up to the curb. Dean blinks at the building in front of him in confusion. “Dude, why are we at a vacuum repair shop?” 

Benny turns off the engine and bumps Dean lightly in the arm to get his attention. He jerks his head in the direction of the other side of the street. 

Dean’s eyes slip past his partner to see a small shop with cupcakes painted in the windows. The sign over the door says _Heavenly Delights_. “Oh,” he says. Well that makes a lot more sense than a vacuum shop. 

He shoots Benny a grateful look before getting out of the car. Once he’s standing on the curb he notices his partner hasn’t made a move to get out. Bracing a hand on the car’s roof, he leans down and looks through the open passenger door. “Gonna join me?” 

Benny waves a dismissive hand. “You go on. I’ll wait here.” 

“Want anything?” Dean asks. 

He receives a lazy grin. “If they have those donuts Jo requested, I’ll take one.” 

“Just one?” Dean teases. 

Benny pats his belly, and his eyes twinkle with merriment. “Just one. Gotta watch my lady-like figure.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and decides not to comment, instead straightening and shutting the door. He shifts his belt so his service weapon and radio sit more comfortably on his hip, then strides across the street. 

When he pushes the door open, his presence is announced by the tinkle of a small bell. The scent of freshly baked sweetness rolls over him, and he stops in the doorway to take a deep breath. The smell of flour, baked bread, cinnamon, and other sweet scents that he can’t quite identify fill him as he takes a deep breath, and he can’t help smiling a little. 

Dean isn’t surprised to see that the place is full of people. His view of the main counter is blocked by the line of customers, so he wanders over to a display case along the back wall to view what’s available. 

He’s never seen so many types of pastries in one place. There are at least five different flavors of muffins, more cookies than he even knew existed (and he definitely wants to try that oatmeal cherry one), a rainbow of cupcakes and donuts. So many donuts. 

His eyes widen at the variety. There are all the usuals, of course. Plain glazed, chocolate, maple bars, and the kind with pudding in the middle. But there are so many he’s never seen before. 

Chocolate cinnamon, peanut butter cream, ginger spice, mango, strawberry daiquiri, and right there in the middle a shelf for bacon donuts. 

And of course it’s empty.  Dean huffs out a frustrated breath and glares at the display case.

“Looking for something specific,  Officer?” 

Dean startles, and turns to see that the rest of the customers have cleared out and he’s the only one left. The man who spoke leans on his arms on the counter, his blue eyes wide and curious below a mess of dark brown hair that looks like it’s never seen a comb. 

Dean's fingers twitch at the sight of that hair. He's not sure if he wants to try and tame it, or make it worse. And what the hell? Where did that come from? 

The man lifts a brow and cocks his head to the side when Dean doesn’t answer right away. 

Realizing that he is staring, Dean coughs lightly to break the moment. “Uh,” he clears his throat again because his mouth is suddenly dry. The man makes him uncomfortable and he's not sure why. Dean drops his eyes from the man’s bright blue eyes, only to find his gaze centered on a pair of pink lips which quirk up in a smile, revealing even white teeth. 

He has a great smile. 

Dean tears his eyes away finally, turning to face the display case. “Uh, yeah,” he starts again. “I was hoping to get some of these bacon donuts, but you’re out.” 

The man behind the counter leans over it so that he can look at the display. His mouth twists wryly. “Yeah, those ones are pretty popular. They go fast.” His voice is low and gravelly and rubs over Dean’s senses like... he stomps down on that thought. 

Ignoring the twinge of interest he feels at the sound of the man’s voice, Dean sighs. It didn’t look like the ones that had been there were chocolate anyway. “Jo is probably going to eat me instead.” 

“Joe sounds like a lucky man if he gets to eat you for dessert.” 

That had Dean whirling back around to face the man behind the counter. It was a mistake because he got pinned by those pretty blue eyes again. And damn if the man didn’t look like a fuckin’ model when he smiled like that. There was mischief in that smile, a hint of suggestion that Dean couldn't possibly misinterpret. He feels heat bloom under his skin and mentally kicks himself for blushing like a girl just because of a nice smile. 

“Uh, no, no, Jo is a girl.” And because he’s nervous for some unknown reason (at least a reason he refuses to admit to himself), Dean babbles on. “She’s little, but she’s pregnant and scary. And she wants chocolate cake donuts with bacon sprinkles, and I didn’t even know you could get any donuts with bacon on them. Trust the pregnant chick to know about that kind of stuff right?” 

Something that looks suspiciously like disappointment flashes across the man’s face, but it’s gone so fast that Dean isn’t sure he really saw it. His smile is wide again and he glances behind him where Dean can hear what sounds like the banging of pots and pans. “A pregnant woman in need of a treat, huh?” he asks softly. 

He straightens and holds up a finger in a gesture to wait. The motion brings Dean’s attention down, and he sees that the guy is wearing a bright red t-shirt that says _Kiss the Baker_ in bold white lettering. For some reason the slogan makes Dean shift uncomfortably from one foot to another trying to ignore the sudden heat under his skin that he can’t (won’t) even try to explain. “I’m pretty sure we can do something about that.” 

Before Dean can respond, the man disappears into the back. There’s a gap in the wall, and Dean can see the man pass through the kitchen to talk to someone. Voices drift out to him, but not loud enough for him to make out the words, even though he can clearly hear that one of the voices sounds irritated. 

There’s a slam of metal against metal which makes Dean wince, but a few minutes later the blue eyed man comes back out smiling triumphantly. “Well, Officer,” he says brightly. “If you don’t mind waiting around for a little bit, we can get you some chocolate cake donuts with bacon sprinkles.” 

Dean blinks at the man in surprise. “Really? You’d do that?” 

“If I keep the cops happy, they’ll keep a closer eye on the place, right?” He runs a hand through his hair, leaving a white streak of flour behind that makes Dean want to pull out his phone and snap a picture because really, that’s just hilarious. “Besides, it’s probably not a good idea to displease a pregnant woman. She really might eat you." 

Dean can’t help but laugh at the overly sincere fear in the man’s eyes. “Yeah, I’d rather deal with a happy pregnant chick." 

“Is this your first child?” 

Dean opens his mouth to correct him, but he’s interrupted by a short man with shaggy golden hair and cheerful brown eyes striding out of the kitchen.  “Chocolate cake bacon donuts, ready to go!” 

“That was quick,” Dean says as he eyes the pale blue box in the shorter man’s hands. 

The newcomer grins at him. “The chocolate cake donuts were already done. Just had to add glaze and bacon.” Without taking his eyes off Dean, he leans over speaks to his taller co-worker. "Damn, little bro. You weren't kidding. This guy is smokin’ hot!" 

Dean feels his cheeks warm but doesn't comment. He knows what he looks like, and that's a reaction he'd been getting since he hit puberty. Instead he steps close to the counter and pulls his wallet out. "What do I owe you?" 

"Ask for his digits as payment," Short and Blonde whispers loudly as he slips the box onto the counter. Then he gives Dean a mock salute and strolls back to the kitchen. 

Blue eyes follow the man with an irritated glare before he turns back to Dean with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Sorry. He's always playing matchmaker. " He looks away and rings up the donuts. "That'll be five-fifty." 

Dean frowns and looks up at the price bulletin over the counter. "Are you sure? That says-" 

"I gave you a bit of a discount. Police officers and firemen get a special price. You know... as a thank you for your service." 

Now Dean understands why Benny likes the place. "Oh, well... thanks." He lifts the box slightly to indicate what he’s thanking him for and begins to back towards the door. 

The guy smiles again and raises one hand in a wave. “Be safe, officer. And take care of Jo.” 

Dean grins. “I will.” And then he’s turning to walk outside. He blinks in the bright sunlight of the afternoon, and looks back at the shop front. Through the window he can see the guy talking to his short coworker again. For a moment he wonders if they’re talking about him. Then he shrugs and heads over to the car. 

Benny grunts when Dean slides into the seat next to him. “Took you long enough.” 

“They made these fresh for me,” Dean explains as he settles the box on his lap. A deliciously sweet and bacon-y scent is wafting up from it and his mouth begins to water. 

“Is there enough in there for us?” Benny asks. He’s eyeing the box rather hungrily. 

Dean lifts the box lid, and realizes that no matter how much he loves Jo, he is not going to pass up on one of these bad boys. He holds the box out to Benny, allowing him to pull out one of the treats. Then he grabs one for himself, smiling when he realizes it’s still warm. 

The first bite is Heaven. “I think I’ve died,” Dean mumbles as he chews. Benny hums his agreement as he devours the rest of his donut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should reiterate the Abusive Relationships tag before you read this chapter. This fic is not all sweetness and fluff. But we'll get back to it soooooon.
> 
> I have read this chapter 999 times and I still keep finding spots where I slip into past tense. I AM SO SORRY. Gosh, this is hard.

When the bell jangles over the door Castiel sags against the counter. Damn it all to hell. Why did the guy have to be taken? 

“Did you strike out, little bro?” Gabriel comes back out of the kitchen and sidles up to Castiel. He’s caked in flour and powdered sugar, and looks like one of the confections he loves so much. 

Castiel shakes his head, then nods, then shakes it again. “I never had a chance. Those donuts are for his pregnant wife." 

Gabriel’s expression is soft with sympathy when Castiel finally tears his eyes away from the door and looks at his brother. “Sorry, man. That sucks ass.” He claps Castiel on the shoulder and jiggles him a little before going back into the kitchen to harass Alfie. 

It does suck, but Castiel shakes off the disappointment. Sure, it has been a long time since he's met anyone that had instantly attracted him like that police officer had - _Not since Michael_ , a voice whispers in the back of his mind - but it probably won't be the last time. 

The bell over the door announces a new customer with a cheerful jingle and Castiel plasters on a welcoming smile. As he helps a woman select a birthday cake for her niece, Castiel tells himself it doesn’t matter if he meets anyone. He’s content with things the way they are. He’s got his family, his friends, and he’s got Michael. 

Well he sort of has Michael. They’ve never talked about being more than just friends, despite the fact that they have sex regularly and have known each other for close to ten years.  Cas has lost count of how many times he’s resolved to bring up their relationship and ask for something more, but lost his nerve at the last minute.  Fear of losing what little bit of Michael he’s allowed to have always keeps his mouth shut.  He has never stopped praying for the courage to claim Michael for his own. 

Castiel manages to shut those thoughts down quickly, with ease of practice. Working helps, and he throws himself into it. Eventually even random thoughts about Officer Green Eyes stop. Before he knows it, he’s flipping the door sign to Closed, counting out the cash register, and joining his brother and cousin in the back to prepare for the next morning. 

They’re in the middle of sanitizing the counters when the office phone rings. Alfie goes running for it as usual. “Castiel, it’s for you,” he says when he comes back a moment later. 

For just a moment Castiel’s heart leaps with anticipation until he remembers that Michael doesn’t have his office number.  But the voice on the other end when he picks it up is just as familiar and almost as welcome. 

“Cassie, are you still coming out to play tonight?” 

He grimaces. He has a few excuses to get out of spending time at Balthazar’s club tonight. Of course the other man will realize it, and will have at least as many counter arguments prepared.  It’s been several weeks since they’ve spent any time together, and Balthazar has been his best friend since college. He knows the longer Castiel goes without socializing the harder it is to get him out of the house. He almost pulls out one of the excuses he’d been planning, but when he opens his mouth a pair of pretty green eyes blink at him in his imagination and a spike of loneliness stabs through him. “Yes of course, Bal. I just have to run home and get ready.” 

“Excellent!” The happiness in Balthazar’s voice is genuine and makes Castiel smile in response. “Wear something sexy, darling. Maybe we can get you laid tonight.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes hard enough that he’s sure it’s audible. “I thought this was about you and me spending time together.” 

“Of course I’m always happy to see you, Cassie. But as your best friend it is also my responsibility to help you find a nice hard dick to ride. Now go get ready and come out and play.” There is a click as Balthazar ends the call. 

A snort of laughter escapes Castiel and he sets the office phone down on its cradle. He pokes his head out of the office. “Do you two mind if I head out a few minutes early?” 

Gabriel glances up at him as he finishes loading a stack of clean trays into a rack. “Heading out with Balthy?” 

Castiel nods. “Do you want me to get you on the list too?” He gives Alfie’s disappointed frown a sympathetic smile. He’d invite the boy too if he were of legal drinking age. Balthazar wouldn’t mind if he snuck in, but Castiel wasn’t going to be responsible for Aunt Naomi’s anger if her precious baby got caught in a bar. 

“Naw, I’ve got a hot date with Kali tonight,” Gabriel grunts as he lifts another stack of trays. He winks at Castiel. “I’m sure you’ll be fine without me as your wingman.” 

_Undoubtedly_ , Castiel thinks with a smirk. Gabriel is  just as bad as Balthazar about trying to hook him up. In fact he is worse, because he always finds men that he knows Castiel would never look at twice. Gabriel thinks it’s great fun. 

Castiel thinks his brother is an ass, and he’s relieved he won’t be coming out tonight. He grabs his long tan coat from its hook on the office wall and slings it over his shoulders and shoves his arms in the sleeves as he sweeps past the others and out to the front of the shop. The display cases are empty and clean and shine softly in the lights coming from the street. A warm sense of accomplishment fills him as he pauses and looks around the darkened interior. 

The shop has only been open for about a year, and it is the best thing that has ever happened to him. His parents had not been happy with him for choosing to go to a culinary arts school, but they’d accepted it because they’d somehow gotten the idea that he could be one of those famous chefs that owns several upscale seventy-five-dollar-a-plate establishments. They’d cut him off when he told him his plans to open a bakery. 

It has taken all of his savings, and the sale of the car they’d given him for his graduation, to afford the down payment on the place. And it will be a long time before he’ll have the rest of the loans paid off. But it is all his, and it is better than he’d ever dreamed. 

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the lingering scent of sugar, flour, and the lemon solution they use to clean. A smile spreads across his face, and the warmth inside his chest blooms. “Goodnight, guys,” he calls as he pushes the door open, jingling the bell. 

The others call out their goodbyes, and Castiel steps out into the darkened street. As soon as he’s outside, the warmth dissipates. It’s a little chilly, causing him to pull his coat closer around himself, but that’s not why he feels cold. 

Outside of his bakery he’s reminded that he doesn’t have anyone to share all his success and happiness with. His brother and cousin don’t count because they’re his employees. He ignores the loneliness and rushes down the street to the apartment complex he’d found a little over a mile from the shop. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns it on. No missed calls or texts. He sighs in disappointment and picks up his step. 

He’s sweaty and ready to take the coat off before he makes it home. Once there he jumps in the shower and grooms himself nicely because Balthazar will give him shit if he doesn’t put an effort into his appearance. And there’s still a chance Michael may call him tonight, so he takes extra care, just in case. 

He decides on dark gray slacks and a black waistcoat over a plain white button up. He twists and turns to get a good look at himself in the full length mirror hanging from his closet door. For a moment he considers adding a tie for color, but decides against it. If he looks like he's trying, it'll only encourage Balthazar to play matchmaker. Satisfied with his appearance, Castiel grabs his keys, wallet, and phone before rushing out the door. He foregoes his coat since Balthazar has threatened to burn it on more than one occasion and Castiel doesn't want to give him the opportunity to carry through with the threat. 

It’s half-past eleven by the time he walks into the swanky bar Balthazar owns, ignoring the angry glares from the people still waiting in line outside. The rumble of conversation and laughter fills the room, almost covering the soft piano music coming from the back corner. Castiel catches a wave from Meg behind the bar and weaves his way through the occupied tables between them to greet her. 

“Clarence, it’s good to see you.” Meg pulls out a bottle of his favorite beer and pops the cap before handing it to him.  Her dark hair is pulled up in a mess of curls that reveal the delicate shells of her ears, and the graceful curve of her neck, and she’s wearing a slinky black dress with a low neckline which reveals a large red pendant nestled just above her cleavage.  Objectively, Castiel knows she’s beautiful, but he has no physical interest in her.  He’s not as close to her as he is with Balthazar, but he does count her as one of his small circle of friends.  

“Hello, Meg.  You look lovely tonight.”  He takes the bottle with a grateful smile. He doesn’t bother to pull out his wallet because Balthazar hasn’t allowed him to pay for his own drinks in years.  

She smirks at him.  “Flattery won’t get you in my pants, you know.” 

He rolls his eyes at the old joke and ignores it.  “Where is Balthazar?” 

Meg winks and gestures to a group of tables near the piano. Castiel lifts the bottle to her in another silent thanks, and slowly cuts a path through the crowded room. He finds Balthazar laughing with a group of very attractive young men and women. 

The other man looks up when Castiel comes close enough, and his icy blue eyes light up with excitement. “Cassie, my love! Come join us!” He gestures at an empty chair across from him. 

Castiel isn’t completely thrilled to sit down with a group of strangers, but it’s not unexpected. Balthazar is almost always surrounded by people he’s just met. At least none of them seem to be picked out as potential dates for him this time.  He takes a seat next to a lovely brunette woman who gives him a bright smile and a cheerful hello. 

She doesn’t give her name, but they end up speaking at length about music. He’s only half there, though. The rest of his attention is on the phone in his pocket, waiting for it to vibrate. When the woman eventually excuses herself to speak with a friend near the bar, he finally relents and pulls his phone out. 

Still nothing. 

Castiel sighs, and slips it back into his pocket. Across the table, he catches Balthazar giving him a slightly disappointed look. Castiel wrinkles his nose at his friend and stands up to get another beer. 

Meg eyes him with knowing amusement as she hands him another bottle.  “How many times have you checked your phone?” she asks as he takes his first sip. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Castiel doesn’t look at her. 

“Uh huh.” 

He tosses a glare at her, but she’s not intimidated at all. She gives him a rich chuckle and moves off to fill another order, leaving him to surreptitiously pull his phone out again. Before he can check it, Balthazar’s arm comes around his shoulder. 

“Cassie, please tell me you aren’t waiting for a call from that ass.” 

Castiel tries to keep his expression bland when he glances at his friend. “Just checking the time.” 

Balthazar presses his lips together in exasperation at Castiel’s very clear lie. “I really wish you would get over that bastard. Find someone new. Someone who appreciates you for more than a quick fuck every once in a while.” 

“There’s nothing quick about it,” Castiel objects. He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at Balthazar’s snort. Then he gestures around the bar with his beer. “Besides, I’ve met plenty of people here.” 

“Yes.” The word is spoken dryly as Balthazar shifts to lean his back against the bar. He folds his arms over his chest and tilts his head at Castiel with an expression of fond annoyance. “But you never seem to find one that lasts you more than a night, darling.” 

Castiel shrugs uncomfortably. “There is nothing wrong with one night stands.” Except that it leaves him with an empty feeling that lasts for days. 

“Maybe not, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Balthazar nudges Castiel’s foot with one of his own. “But that is more my speed than yours.” 

He really doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. Castiel rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his beer. “Can we not do this tonight?” 

“Cassie…” 

“Balthy….” Castiel warns. 

Balthazar’s pale eyes turn downright icy when he glares. “You can’t blame me for wanting to see you happy.” 

“I am happy,” Castiel snaps. Lonely, yes. But still happy. 

His friend sighs and straightens to stand directly in front of Castiel.  He reaches out and adjusts the collar of Castiel's shirt, fussing like a parent as he brushes imaginary wrinkles out of the shoulders. “You keep telling yourself that, darling.  Maybe someday it will be true.” Once he’s stated his piece and is satisfied with Castiel’s appearance he smiles tightly. “But we all know you’ll be happier without that asshole in your life.” 

And then he’s gone, melting back into the crowd. 

Castiel glares after him. “Michael is not an asshole,” he mumbles. 

Although, if he’s honest with himself, Michael _is_ kind of an asshole. But he has been a part of Castiel’s life for a long time. He honestly has been looking for someone new, but he can’t find anyone that fascinates him as much as Michael always has. 

An image of bright green eyes, a wide smile, and a tight ass in a blue uniform floats across the back of his mind. _If only_ … Castiel thinks to himself wistfully. 

That thought is interrupted by a buzz in his hand. He fumbles and nearly drops his phone in his rush to check it. All thoughts of Officer Green Eyes fly out of his head when he sees the text from Michael. Quickly he taps out a reply, then chugs the rest of his beer. He misses the disappointed look Meg and Balthazar slant after him as he rushes out of the club. 

After a cab drops him off at Michael’s building, he rushes upstairs and knocks on the door. Michael opens it wearing nothing but a loose pair of pajama bottoms. 

Michael's dark hair is tousled above dark brown eyes that look black unless you see them in the right lighting. Beard stubble covers his chin and neck where it blends into a spread of thicker hair across his chest and flat abs. The trail of hair continues down, disappearing in a tempting path under the waistband of his pajamas, making Castiel go warm all over with want when he follows it with his eyes. 

Michael barely glances at Castiel before turning to walk back inside. 

“Took you long enough,” he says as Castiel follows him through the door. 

“Sorry, I was out. I had to catch a cab.” 

Michael grunts and walks straight for the bedroom. “Well I guess you can spend the night then. I’ll drive you home tomorrow.” He pauses and frowns over his shoulder, forcing Castiel to stop quickly to avoid running into him. “You don’t have to work in the morning, do you?” 

Castiel shakes his head. “Gabriel and Alfie are opening. I don’t need to be there until later in the morning.” Rarely do all three of them need to be there at once. They had only worked together today because they had a pre-order for a party that had required an extra pair of hands to get ready in time for pick up. 

The other man nods almost absently and continues back to his bedroom. “Where were you tonight?” 

“Balthazar’s club-” 

Michael spins around at that. “Was he trying to hook you up again?” He crowds Castiel up against the wall and presses his mouth against his jaw in a open kiss. “Is he still trying to talk you into kicking me to the curb?” 

Castiel sighs happily at the scrape of stubble against his skin. He closes his eyes, but they pop open again when his imagination supplies him with the image of sandy blond hair, green eyes, and red lips parted against his skin. Seriously, now is not the time to be thinking about Officer Green Eyes. 

Michael asked him a question, and he’ll get irritated if Castiel waits too long to answer. 

“You know Balthazar,” he manages to say hoarsely. “He’s always trying to get me laid.” 

Michael lifts his head to look down at Castiel. He reaches up and runs his fingers through Castiel’s hair at the temple. “That’s not what bothers me.” 

And that’s what bothers Castiel. Michael doesn’t care who he fucks, or even if he finds a boyfriend. As long as Castiel comes when Michael calls. Something shifts uncomfortably in his chest, ruining the excitement he’s been experiencing since Michael called him, and he has to force himself to smile. He brings his hands up and slides them over Michael’s hips to pull him closer. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Michael stares at him for another moment, his expression shadowed and intense. But eventually it softens with a smile. The hand in Castiel’s hair moves to his shoulder, pressing down. Castiel takes the hint and drops to his knees. Michael is still standing so close that it’s difficult, and once he’s on the floor Castiel’s face is pressed into Michael’s crotch. The man's familiar scent fills Castiel's head, and his body responds, hardening quickly in anticipation. 

“Suck me off,” Michael says gruffly. “And I’ll forget all about it.” 

Castiel grins up at him, and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his pajama bottoms to tug them down. 

Much later, when Michael is sleeping with almost two feet between them, and Castiel is wishing he was brave enough to cross the distance and press himself against the other man’s warmth, it occurs to him that this relationship is definitely not enough for him anymore. The sex is fantastic, but the space between their bodies only increases the emptiness Castiel feels inside afterwards. 

He sighs and rolls over, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder in an attempt to gain some kind of warmth. It’s not cold in the room, but that doesn’t keep him from shivering. He really should break things off with Michael. But then he would really have no one. The thought makes him curl further into himself. 

When he finally drifts into sleep, he dreams of green eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

The donuts are no longer warm by the time Dean's shift ends and he's able to take them to Jo, but they still smell delicious and it's pure torture staying out of them. The scent fills the car so completely that he has to roll the windows down to get some fresh air so he can concentrate on the drive home.  The Impala is going to smell like bacon and sugar for a while, and he's not entirely sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, and he's grateful when he finally pulls into his driveway and can get them out of his car. 

He drops them on the counter in his kitchen before going back to the living room and slamming his palm against the wall separating his side of the duplex from Sam and Jo's to let her know he's home, just in case she didn’t hear the car.  He then heads upstairs to change out of his uniform. He's only half dressed when he hears his front door open, and he chuckles at Jo's impatience. A very un-Jo-like squeal comes from downstairs as Dean is pulling a faded Star Wars t-shirt over his head, and he laughs again. 

He doesn't bother with shoes, and bounds down the stairs barefoot. He finds Jo leaning against his counter, eyes closed blissfully as she shoves nearly a quarter of the donut into her mouth, making her cheeks bulge slightly as she chews. 

"I would have brought them over," he says lightly as he grabs one for himself and leans against the counter next to her, close enough that their shoulders brush. 

"Couldn't wait." At least that's what he thinks she says. It's hard to understand her with her mouth full. With a visible effort she swallows and turns to him with a bright smile. "I wasn't sure you'd actually find them." 

Dean licks glaze and bacon grease off his lips and glares at her. "Then why did you ask for them?" 

"You're resourceful." Her dark eyes sparkle at him with humor. She takes another bite of donut, cupping her hand under it to prevent crumbs from dropping onto her shirt which is tight enough to reveal her newly developing baby bump. “And I only had the idea because Charlie mentioned bacon donuts the last time we got lunch together. I just couldn’t remember the name of the place.” 

Rolling his eyes, Dean shoves the last of his donut into his mouth and goes to rummage through the fridge. He pulls out a jug of milk and pours two glasses, handing one to Jo, who makes a happy noise and chugs half of it down in one go. 

"So where did you find these?" Jo asks once her mouth is no longer full. 

After clearing his own mouth with a few swigs of milk, Dean belches. He smacks his palm against Jo's when she holds it out for a high five for his effort. "Some tiny hole-in-the-wall bakery that Benny knew about.” Sounds like Charlie knew about the place too. Was he the only cop in town who didn’t? He was going to have a serious talk with his co-workers if that was the case. “They didn't actually have what you asked for, but when I mentioned it was for a pregnant chick they made an exception." 

"Told you it would work." She finishes off her milk and sets the glass in the sink, grabs the box of donuts, and heads for the door. "Come on, the game's about to start." 

Not bothering with shoes since it's only five feet from his door to theirs, Dean follows. He snags his messenger bag with his sketchbook from where it sits just inside the door. He hasn't sketched for a while but his fingers have been itching to hold a pencil all day so he might actually get some lines down during commercial breaks. "Is that all we're having for dinner?" 

"Don't see why not," Jo calls over her shoulder as she lets them in to the side of the duplex that she and Sam occupy. 

"Uh, how about because you're pregnant and need something nutritious to eat?" He stops just inside the door when he’s practically knocked over by an overly excited golden retriever. He rubs Bones’ ears in greeting and gives him a loud kiss between his eyes. 

She shoots him an annoyed look as she plops down on the ugly brown couch in the living room. Bones abandons Dean now that he’s received his kiss and goes to sit at Jo’s feet, laying his head over her knee gazing hopefully at the box in her hands. "Now you sound like Sam." 

"Shit, don't tell him that," Dean shoots back with a grin. Normally Dean wouldn't care what Jo a eats, but she is pregnant with his niece or nephew, and he is going to make sure she is taken care of properly. He makes a detour into the kitchen to raid the fridge. It's nearly as empty as his. "Damn, Joanna Beth. You need to go shopping." 

There's eggs, spinach (probably for Samsquatch's health smoothies), and cheese. Dean grunts and pulls them out. It's enough to make a couple omelettes, and he'll feel better knowing Jo has had something besides donuts for dinner. Plus it's quick and easy, and soon he's settling down on the floor near her knees after handing her a plate. 

Bones gives him a mournful look, and Dean does his best to ignore him. Sam's yelled at him plenty of times for feeding the dog human food. Dean didn’t used to listen to Sam, but then he’d been around for one of those rotten dog farts his brother had been going on about, and now he knows better. He’ll wait until he leaves to sneak Bones a treat, so only Sam and Jo have to suffer. He stifles an evil chuckle at the thought. No need to make Jo suspicious. 

After eating, Dean gets up to grab a beer, smirking at the grouchy look Jo gives him when he brings it back to the living room. “Sorry, sweetheart.” 

She wrinkles her nose at him, but doesn’t pursue the subject. "So where's this bakery at?" Jo nudges Dean with her foot when he settles down on the floor in front of the couch and pulls his bag close so he can get his art supplies out. "If they spoil pregnant women, I'm going to have to send Sam in." 

Dean laughs as he starts flipping through the sketch book until he finds a blank page "Actually it's probably better if I keep picking up your treats. They give me a discount for being a cop." 

"It's the uniform. They probably thought you were sexy and want you to come back." 

"He was a dude, Jo." 

"So?" She shoves the back of his head lightly for emphasis. 

The conversation he had with the guy is running through his head. The comment about how lucky "Joe" must be, and the question about this being his first child. Had he been fishing to see if Dean were single? Dean wasn't wearing a ring, but that didn't always mean a lot. Plenty of people took their wedding rings off for work to keep from losing them. 

Jo nudges him with her foot again when he doesn’t answer. "You do know that men find you sexy, too, right?" 

She's teasing, but her words still hit pretty close to home. Men occasionally flirt with Dean, and it doesn't bother him. In fact, most of the time he barely notices it. He's never been interested in men, other than a passing thought here and there that a man is good looking. Sure, he's obsessed with Doctor Sexy, but honestly who wouldn't be?  Liars, that's who. 

The idea that Bakery Guy might have been hitting on him, well that feels different. This time there's a flicker of interest fluttering inside of Dean. And now he's kicking himself for not making it clear that he's single. And _now_ he's confused. Why on Earth would it matter? 

_Because_ , a voice whispers in the back of Dean's mind, _Bakery Guy is way hotter than Doctor Sexy._  

He hasn’t been interested in flirting anyone for a long time. Being a cop doesn’t exactly give him a lot of time for dating someone regularly, so he’s stuck to short flings and one night stands in the three years since he and Lisa broke it off. So far, that’s been enough to satisfy, but lately his taste for a quickie and an “adios” has soured. He blames it on Sam and Jo’s sickening display of domestic bliss. Anyone watching those chuckleheads make moon eyes over each other would be affected. 

But even if he is willing to admit to himself that he might be a little bit lonely, that doesn’t quite settle his mind on why he’s intrigued with Bakery Guy. He’s definitely not bored with women. The pile of skin mags hiding under his bed is proof of that. 

"Hey, Jo?" His voice is uncertain and he licks his lips nervously. The words clog it and he has to clear his throat. But still he can't say what he's thinking. Mostly because he’s not sure. His thoughts are swirling around much too quickly for him to catch one and focus on it. 

When he doesn't speak for a while, Jo leans forward and peers at the side of his face. "What?" 

What is he going to ask? _Hey, Jo would you think less of me for dating a man?_ He already knows the answer to that. Jo is way too awesome to judge him for switching teams mid-season. He also knows she'd take every opportunity to tease him about it, but he would totally do the same if the situation were reversed. Still, he can't bring himself to voice the thought. He clamps his jaw shut and avoids her eyes. "Nothin', never mind." 

He feels her stare like a physical thing on the side of his face, but to his relief she lets it go. Leaning back on the couch, her attention leaves him to go back to the game. Dean's breath escapes him in a slow sigh of relief. 

Out of the corner of his eye he can see the pale blue box the donuts came in. Before he decides right now if he's going to go gay for Bakery Guy, maybe he should see if he's still attracted to him after a few days or if what he's feeling right now is an anomaly. 

Content with that decision, Dean settles back to pay attention to the game while idly sketching a set of eyes crinkled at the edges with a smile.

 

***

 

Dean’s Green Lantern t-shirt rucks up as he scratches his belly and shuffles into the kitchen. He flips on the light, wincing at the unexpected brightness, and makes a beeline for the coffee maker. The scent of wake-up juice fills the room while he fumbles around, pulling out the toaster and a box of raspberry Pop Tarts. Once he’s got a couple of the diabetes inducing pastries warming up, he turns to stare at the coffee maker, willing it to brew faster. 

Coffee is so necessary right now. 

His blurry not-concentration is interrupted by the guitar riffs of his ringtone. Despite the fact that his body feels like he’s trying to move it through thick syrup, he rushes upstairs to grab his phone, sliding his thumb across the screen just before it goes to voicemail.  He presses it to his ear, mumbling something that is probably a greeting. 

"You haven't had your coffee yet, have you?" 

A small grin twists Dean's lips as he shuffles back down to the kitchen. "Mornin', Lisa. I'm about to pour my first cup." He digs through his cupboards and pulls out a chipped red mug, and then grabs the bowl of sugar. Normally he likes his coffee strong, black, and bitter, but today he's craving sweets. 

"What's up? Do you need something?" His romantic relationship with Lisa had faded into friendship years ago, and while it's good to hear from her, it's unexpected first thing in the morning. Worry wakes him up more than caffeine would. "Is everything ok?"

Lisa laughs a little, and Dean relaxes. "Everything is fine, but I was hoping you could do me a favor?" 

"Sure, Lis'. Almost anything for you, babe." 

"Uh huh, I like how you quantified that." Her voice is wry, but still laced with humor. "So, Ben's birthday is Sunday-" 

The carafe Dean had just pulled out of the coffee maker slams down on the counter, and he smacks his forehead. "Shit, I forgot. You know how busy I get with work, and I've been helping Sam get his house baby ready, and-" 

"Calm down, Dean. It's ok," Lisa is laughing again. "Ben's birthday party isn't until this weekend, so you still have time to do something for him." 

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face before picking up the coffee again to pour it. "Thanks, Lis'. Although I wish you'd called me earlier." 

"Yeah, well I was busy too." 

Dean adds several heaping spoonfuls of sugar to his cup, stirs it quickly and then turns to lean his back against the counter. He does his best to ignore the melancholy her words kick up in him.  They were both always busy, which is the main reason they'd drifted apart. "So what's this favor?" He wrinkles his nose at the first sip of his coffee, and turns to add another spoonful of sugar. 

"Ben wanted to bring a treat to his class, but I completely forgot. I'm doing an extra shift at the today so that I can have the weekend off, and I don't have time to go pick up anything-" 

"Say no more. I've got this." Lisa's grateful sigh hisses over the line, and he grins. "But you'll owe me." 

The laughter is back in her voice. "We'll take it out of what you owe me." 

"Sounds fair." Dean chuckles and pushes away from the counter, and heads back upstairs to get in uniform. If he is going to pick up a treat and drop it off at Ben's school before his shift starts, he needs to get moving so he won't be late for work. The call ends after he extracts a promise from her to text him all the party details. 

He texts Benny to let him know he'll meet him at the station so he wouldn't need a pick up, and then tosses his phone on the bed while he gets dressed. He finally allows himself to feel the little glimmer of anticipation that has been hovering around the back of his mind when he’s settling behind the wheel of his car. He already knows exactly where he is going. There's a certain bakery he's looking forward to visiting again. 

He tells himself it's because he's craving chocolate cake bacon donuts. Because he doesn't dig guys. 

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter includes awkward flirting!! **finally**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter!! And a bouncing point of view, marked by ---- because I'm too lazy to find cute little graphics to split things up instead :D

_Week One_

 

The familiar tinkle of the bell over the door catches Castiel's attention. "Be with you in a moment!" 

He is squatted down behind the display case loading in a batch of the new chocolate cake bacon donuts that he'd decided to add to the lineup after that hot cop had special requested some the day before. Gabe had made more than enough for the shop employees as well, and Castiel decided after just one bite that they belonged on the menu. 

Once he's got the tray in place, he stands, brushing his hands off on his apron. His eyes are still on the case, making quick inventory of what else needs to be put out. "Good morning,” he says without looking up. He's feeling muzzy from lack of sleep because he'd been out late with Michael, so he's not completely sure it comes out sounding sincere. "How can I help you today?" 

"So you've decided to add them to the menu, huh?" 

Castiel's head jerks up at the familiar voice. The man that he'd mentally dubbed Officer Green Eyes is standing across the counter, smiling at him warmly, and looking like a wet dream in that blue uniform. Even though he had fantasized about the man quite a bit in the shower that morning, Castiel hadn't actually expected to see him again. His shop is popular enough that he is considering hiring another employee, but it’s a novelty and he doesn’t think it is the kind of place cops would start frequenting on a regular basis. 

He’s really glad this one particular cop came back though, and he can't help the answering grin that spreads across his face. "Of course, they're delicious. It would be a sin to not share them." 

The last lingering cobwebs of sleep clinging to the corners of Castiel’s brain dissolve, and his heart starts to pound when Officer Green Eyes chuckles softly. He can't remember the last time he met someone who made his breath catch with just a laugh over a bad joke. 

"Yeah, can't argue with you there," the other man says with a widening grin. Damn, even his teeth are pretty. That is totally unfair, and Castiel really hates the faceless woman who gets to see that smile on a regular basis. 

Green eyes stray over to the display case. "I may have to get a few with the rest of my order." 

That reminds Castiel that he's running a business, and Officer Green Eyes is here for a reason that doesn’t involve standing there and looking pretty for Castiel’s pleasure. He shakes himself out of his daze and plasters on his professional face. "And what is it you're looking for today?" 

"Cupcakes," Officer Green Eyes says. "Two dozen... and you can mix and match them. They're for a kid's birthday party." 

"That's easy." Castiel grabs a box and moves back to the display case to fill it. Just to make conversation, he says "How did your wife like the donuts?" 

"My what?" 

The genuine confusion makes Castiel look up from the nearly full box. "Your wife? Jo?" 

Something about the question makes the other man blush. "Uh, she's not my wife. She's my sister-in-law." 

Oh. _Oh_. Excitement that the hot cop whose pretty green eyes and smattering of freckles had haunted Castiel's fitful dreams last night makes Castiel's stomach do an odd flip flop. He quickly squashes it down. Just because Officer Green Eyes isn’t married to Jo, that doesn’t mean he isn’t married, or taken, or even into guys. 

Setting the first box of cupcakes down on the counter, Castiel pretends a casualness he doesn't feel when he asks. "So you're not married at all?" To hide how eager he is for the answer he starts filling a second box with more of the frosted treats. 

"No. Nothing so serious for me." 

Well he hasn't admitted outright that he's single. Castiel thinks he should probably leave it alone, but his mouth doesn’t get the message, and keeps talking. "Girlfriend?" 

"Do you get this personal with all your customers?" 

Now Castiel finally looks over at him. He doesn't look offended, but Castiel decides to cover up his curiosity with a shrug and a grin. "Just checking to see if you've got anyone else to buy donuts for." 

"Trying to up-sell me, huh?" And there's definitely laughter in his words. 

Castiel puts lids on the boxes and then grabs a small paper bag. He flashes a grin at Officer Green Eyes before he reaches into the display case and pulls out one of the chocolate cake bacon donuts. "I plead The Fifth," he teases as he places the wrapped donut on top of the two boxes of cupcakes. 

The other man snorts and rolls his eyes. "Y'know that always makes you look more suspicious, right? It's a good thing I'm not arresting you." 

"But I might like it," Castiel says before he can think about it. He blames it on lack of sleep. 

For just a moment Castiel thinks he may have made a mistake when the other man’s eyes widen. But then his head tilts back on a full throated laugh. When he finally looks back at Castiel he's grinning. "Yeah, the handcuffs can be fun in some conditions, but the legal ramifications of an arrest... not so much." 

Castiel grins in return, ridiculously pleased that his stupid joke received such a positive response, and rings up the purchase. Once again, he gives the officer an enormous discount, mentally kicking himself for it since he's thinking of hiring another employee, but unable to charge full price when this man's laughter is ringing in his ears. He accepts payment and slides the boxes further across the counter. With a tilt of his head, he indicates the paper wrapped donut. "On the house." 

The smile and the softly spoken thanks he receives in return make the discount worth it. 

It's not until the man is gone that Castiel realizes he never got an answer to his question about whether the man is single.

 

***

 

Dean answers his phone with a sound that is more groan than greeting. 

“And good morning to you too, Wookie." 

Charlie sounds far too chipper to be referring to herself, so Dean assumes she means him. "Mornings are evil," he responds with a little more coherence than he’d displayed with his original greeting. His coffee pot hisses and he glares at it in an attempt to will it to brew faster. 

"Only for big babies like you. What time did you go to bed?" 

"Late." He wasn't sure what time he finally fell asleep. He'd been completely preoccupied with his sketch book and had fallen asleep with a pencil still in his hand. 

"You need a keeper, Winchester," Charlie snorts. 

Dean rolls his eyes and shuffles to the fridge to see what he can scrounge up for breakfast. He's out of pop tarts. And milk. And eggs. Fuck, he needs to go shopping. His fridge is even sadder looking than Sam and Jo’s. "Why are you calling me?" 

"I heard you're the Go To Guy for pastry delivery." 

The mention of pastries perks Dean up and he closes the fridge. "I'll grab muffins if you bring coffee." Charlie works in forensics, but they often share breakfast before he and Benny go on patrol. 

"Deal." 

"Awesome." He knows just the place. 

***

 

Castiel is pulling a batch of pies out of the oven when the bell over the door announces a customer. "Gabe, can you go out and help them for me?" He calls across the kitchen as he wrangles the heavy pan over to the cooling rack. 

His brother doesn't respond other than to walk toward the front of the shop. But he trips to a stop and rushes back to Castiel's side. "Um, I'm pretty sure you're going to want to take care of the customer." He doesn't wait for an answer. He shoulders Castiel aside and reaches into the oven for the next pan of pies. 

"But-" 

Gabe pins Castiel with a quelling look over his shoulder. He'd look completely serious if it weren't for the tiny twitch of his lips. "Seriously, bro. Get out there. I'll take care of this." 

Castiel throws his hands up in surrender. He has no idea why Gabriel is forcing him out of the kitchen, but as long as the pies are being taken care of, he supposes it doesn't matter who runs the register. 

When he comes out of the kitchen and sees who's waiting for him, he understands.   

Officer Green Eyes is waiting at the counter and his lips stretch into a grin when Castiel appears. "If it weren't for the smell of baking, I'd think no one was here." 

Castiel’s heart flutters in his chest, and he wonders if it will try pounding straight out of his chest like in one of the old cartoons he loved when he was a kid.  It certainly feels like it’s trying. 

He smiles in return and braces his hands on the counter, leaning over it slightly. "We were just taking some pies out of the oven." 

The other man visibly perks up. "What kind of pie?" 

"We've got a couple of strawberry rhubarb pies, and some apple, and some huckleberry coming out right now." 

His eyes are drawn down when Officer Green Eyes licks his lips, and Castiel feels snared by the motion. Those lips are pink and moist, and Castiel wants to run his own tongue over them to see if they taste as good as they look. He can't tear his gaze away from them when they start moving again. 

"One of these days I'm going to have to come in just for pie." 

Castiel blinks and forces himself to look up and meet the other man’s eyes. "If you want one, they'll be cool enough in just a few minutes." 

Officer Green Eyes shakes his head. "Not today. I'm headed to work as soon as I leave. I was just going to pick up some treats for the guys at work. I usually pick up muffins from the Gas-n- Sip, but yours are better." 

Castiel laughs and grabs a box to fill. "I should hope so. I'm pretty sure the muffins at the Gas-n- Sip are at least three days old." He pauses and motions at the display case. "Anything in particular?" 

Officer Green Eyes shrugs and makes a small sweeping gesture at the case. "Surprise us." 

That's an answer Castiel always likes. It's fun to mix and match the different kinds of desserts he bakes. He fills the box with a collection of cupcakes, donuts, and muffins, then sets it down on the counter. Smiling up at the other man he tilts his head. "And what do you want for yourself..." he glances down at the badge pinned to the man's chest. The name he reads fits the man perfectly. "Officer Winchester?" 

"I'm not on duty yet. You can call me Dean." 

"Dean." It comes out low, and almost reverent. "I'm Castiel." 

Dean clears his throat and looks down at his feet for a moment. When he looks up again, the only sign of discomfort his shows is a tinge of red across the bridge of his nose. "So, what do I owe you?" 

Castiel tears his eyes away from the fascinating play of emotions crossing Dean's face and turns to the register. Again, he discounts things to his own price, telling himself he can afford it for just one customer. It's not until Dean is gone that he realizes he didn't find out what Dean wanted for himself. When did he get so bad at this whole flirting thing?

 

***

 

Dean twists the knob of his front door to make sure the lock engages. He really needs to fix the damn thing, but he keeps forgetting. Plus Sam has his tool box, even though he's been too busy to actually use it. Jo could easily put up the shelves in the nursery herself, but Sam said he'd do it and she's determined to let him. 

Making a mental note to get his tools back that he'll probably forget almost immediately, Dean rushes off his porch and towards the police cruiser waiting for him at the curb. He flashes Benny a bright grin as he slides into the passenger seat. "Mornin', Benny. Want to stop for breakfast?" 

Benny shrugs as he puts the car in gear and pulls away from the curb. "You got somethin' in mind?" 

"That bakery we went to the other day sells scones." Dean deliberately keeps his eyes averted from his partner. He doesn't think Benny will give him crap for his sudden addiction to the place. At least he hopes not because he isn't really up to defending himself. Especially since he's not just going for the food, although Heavenly Delights really does have some of the best baked treats he's ever had. 

He can barely admit that to himself, much less to anyone else. Not even his best friend. 

"Sure, brother. If you're paying." 

Dean lets out a relieved breath. "Yeah, dude, of course."

 

***

 

Castiel isn't expecting Dean, not really. Only hoping. But when he hears the bell tinkle over the door he hurries out to the front of the shop, ignoring Alfie's questioning look. His heart starts pounding with excitement when he sees the tall police officer standing at the counter, giving him that easy smile that makes Castiel want to press up against him. 

"Hello, Dean." 

"Mornin', Cas." 

Castiel blinks once at the shortened version of his name. It makes a lot more sense than "Cassie" and he wonders briefly why his family and friends never came up with it before. Then he's distracted from that thought when he sees a large man step up behind Dean. He recognizes the other officer's light blue eyes and handsome smile. "Hello, Officer Lafitte. It's been a while." 

"Aw, if you're on a first name basis with my partner here," he drawls as he claps Dean on the shoulder, "You're welcome to call me Benny." 

They chat for a few minutes, and while it's not as open as it is when Castiel is just talking to Dean, it doesn't feel stilted either. Benny keeps casting Dean thoughtful looks, and his eyes widen when he sees how much Castiel discounts the box of bagels they're purchasing this morning. 

Dean is looking down at his wallet and misses the small shrug Castiel directs at Benny in answer to his silent question about the cost. Benny's pale eyes twinkle and he gives a little nod, as if he's acknowledging something and giving his approval. At least that's what it seems like to Castiel. When they leave, Benny turns back with a wave and a wink, and Castiel wonders if he's going to tell Dean that he's getting more of a discount than normal. 

 

_Week Three_

 

Dean squints at his reflection in the mirror and pokes at his belly. He doesn’t think Charlie is right about him gaining any weight, but he doesn’t have a scale in his bathroom to find out for sure. Besides, despite his new penchant for daily sweets, he still looks great. He goes to the gym regularly, and one or two donuts a day can’t be that bad for him, right? 

He’s tempted ask Benny if he thinks Charlie is right about Dean’s waistline, but immediately discards the idea. His uniform fits fine. He’s fine. 

He’s still going to get the cherry coke muffin Castiel told him about for breakfast before he heads into work though.

 

***

 

Castiel slides the wrapped muffin across the counter to Dean who’s eying it with barely suppressed excitement. Dean comes in several times a week and picks something new, and Castiel has started coming up with new recipes just so that Dean can try them. 

“Damn, Cas, this one is going to be good, isn’t it?” 

Castiel tilts his head and watches as Dean pulls the muffin out of the paper it’s wrapped in. “How do you know?” 

Green eyes flick up at him, and Dean gives him a flirty smile. “I can tell by how excited you were to tell me about it.” 

It’s true he is excited about the new flavor. When Gabriel had tried it, he’d faked an orgasm in response. Or it might have been real, but Castiel doesn’t want to think about that. 

He waits with baited breath as Dean takes a small bite of his muffin. 

Dean’s eyes roll back in his head and he moans, and all of Castiel’s blood rushes straight to his dick. _Oh my God,_ he thinks as he surreptitiously braces himself on the counter and locks his knees so he’ll stay upright instead of melting into a puddle at Dean’s feet. _That sound was more delicious than the actual muffin._  

 

_Week Four_  

 

“Man, you sure are in love with this place,” Benny says as he pulls the cruiser into an open space next to the curb. He flashes Dean a blank look, but Dean can see the amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Or is it the owner?” 

Dean freezes before he gets out of the car and turns a hunted look on Benny. “What? No… what?” 

Something unpleasant digs at his gut and suddenly he isn’t very hungry. He settles back in his seat. “We don’t have to eat here if you don’t want to.” 

He avoids Benny’s eyes, so he misses the disappointed look he receives. “Naw, brother. I like this place too.” 

Dean shrugs and looks out the window at the vacuum shop across the street. “Well I’m tired of it. Why don’t we just stop at McDonalds or something?” 

Benny huffs out a sigh. “Well I’m getting something here before we go to McDonalds.” And then he’s getting out of the car and Dean is left to his thoughts. 

He doesn’t know why he’s so bothered by what Benny said. It’s not the first time someone has teased him about playing for the other team. Straight guys do that to each other all the time. 

Dean’s got thick skin. 

He has no reason to be freaking out over a joke. But he totally is. 

Because suddenly it doesn’t feel like a joke.

 

***

 

It has been about a month since Dean started visiting Heavenly Delights, and Castiel sees him at least a few times a week. It's never on the same day, or even always in the morning. But Dean has become a regular fixture in the shop and Castiel is constantly on edge, hoping every time the bell above the door jingles that it’ll be his favorite police officer. Today is no different, and when the bell above the door announces a customer he looks up expectantly, only to be disappointed by the presence of Dean’s partner Benny instead of Dean himself. 

He greets the older officer with a friendly smile and they chat. It’s a struggle for Castiel to not ask about Dean, but he manages a little bit of small talk, and he’s proud of himself for sounding like a normal human being. But he isn’t paying a lot of attention when he rings up the box of donuts Benny had requested. 

Benny chuckles softly as he passes a few bills of cash across the counter. "I should'a known it would be best to send Dean in here." 

Castiel blinks in confusion as he takes the money. "What do you mean?" 

"He gets a bigger discount for being pretty," Benny drawls. His lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. 

It takes a moment for it to register what he's talking about. Castiel closes his eyes for a moment when he realizes Benny has seen how little Dean gets charged. "I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I can give you a refund-" 

"Don't worry about it." Benny waves away Castiel's words. "I'll just make sure he doesn't hide in the car next time." 

Castiel's stomach sinks. He's been flirting with Dean more and more since he first started coming into the store. Dean hasn't made any indication that it has bothered him, and in fact he's flirted right back in most cases. "Oh. You don't have to send him in. I can give you the same discount, really." 

"Now don't go all down in the mouth," Benny chides softly. He tilts his head to the side, and gives Castiel a considering look. "I'm gonna let you in on a secret, Castiel. And I want you to pay close attention." He pauses and waits for Castiel to acknowledge him with a nod. Then he taps a finger on the counter to emphasize his words. "That boy has been looking for something for as long as I've known him, which has been for a long time. Sometimes when we're in here he looks like he might have found it. But he ain't never gonna admit it because I don't think he knows. You’re not exactly his type." 

How does he even respond to that? Castiel opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, and he closes it with a click of teeth. He looks through the shop's front windows where he can see the familiar police cruiser parked at the curb. It’s hard to tell from here, but he thinks there is a Dean shaped shadow in the car. 

He glances back up at Benny. "What is his type?" He already knows the answer. He can almost predict the words that are about to come out of Benny's mouth. 

But Benny’s answer surprises him. 

"Well," Benny drags the word out as he picks up the box of donuts. "You’re not _‘exactly’_ his type, but you’re pretty damn close. That boy loves brunettes." One eyelid drops into a wink, and then Benny is ambling out the door without a backward glance. 

Benny’s words keep Castiel distracted for the rest of the day. 

He'd suspected Dean was straight from comments he made. But then Dean would flirt with him and Castiel would begin to wonder again. Every time Dean visits the shop Castiel goes over all their encounters in his mind, and tells himself what he interprets as flirting could just be friendly joking if viewed through a straight man's eyes. 

But Benny says Dean doesn’t exactly know what he is looking for. Is that a hint that he thinks Castiel should... what? Go for it? See how Dean will react to more serious interest? 

He isn’t sure he wants to be the one to coax a closeted man out, much less someone who may not be fully aware of his sexual preferences. 

His thoughts chase each other in circles all day and he is exhausted by the time he closes shop for the evening. He’s restless and irritable, and when Michael calls him he gladly accepts the man's invitation for dinner as a distraction from his thoughts.

 

_Week Five_  

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Dean mutters to himself. “I am pathetic.” 

He’s sitting in his car, parked across the street from Castiel’s shop, angsting like a twelve year old girl about going inside to talk to a guy. 

Cas makes the best sweets in town. Dean loves pastries. 

This is not anything more complicated than that. 

After ten more minutes of cussing himself out, Dean finally gets out of the car.

 

***

 

The Open sign has been lit for little more than an hour, and Castiel is already tempted to call in his brother so he can go home and get back in bed for a few hours. 

Despite a small group of customers camped outside the door that morning, he hasn’t been any busier than usual.  The shop is never really crowded at any time of day unless there was a holiday. But he hadn't slept enough the night before, and as a result he's already dropped a bag of flour, causing a mess that put things slightly behind schedule, and also managed to burn himself taking something out of the oven.  

He plasters on a false smile as he waves out his latest customers.  The cheerful jingle of the doorbell does nothing to improve his mood like it normally does. 

Now that there's a lull in the stream of people coming and going for their morning donuts, he allows himself to collapse against the counter for five heartbeats and feel a small dose of self-pity. He rests his forehead on his crossed arms and closes his eyes. "Should've told Michael no," he mumbles. 

He shouldn't have even answered the phone at all. Michael knows Castiel always works Mondays. And that means being in the shop by four a.m. to start prep for the day. Most of the time that stops him from asking Castiel to visit, even if it doesn’t always stop him from calling. But last night there had been a needy whine to his voice when he asked for company, and Castiel had foolishly given in to his pleading. 

And now Castiel feels three times too heavy from lack of sleep, and he's sore. Michael had been rougher than usual. Not that he minds it rough, but combined with lack of sleep, it's enough to put Castiel in a rather crabby mood. 

The jingle of the bell above the door makes him want to groan. With an effort he makes sure his smile is in place before he lifts his head to welcome the newcomer, but when he sees a familiar dark blue uniform, he straightens completely, and his gaze travels up over a crooked smile and eventually lands on a pair of sparkling green eyes. "Well hello, Officer," he says with a genuine smile of his own. Suddenly he feels much lighter, and definitely more awake. 

Dean's voice, when he speaks, is just as gruff and sexy as always. "Having a rough morning?" 

A blush warms Castiel's cheeks when he realizes what he must have looked like slumped over the counter when Dean came in.  He mentally kicks himself for being unprofessional.  "Just tired. I had a late night, which is a bad idea when I knew I had to open the shop this morning." He shrugs and grimaces wryly. "My suffering is my own fault." 

Dean tilts his head back slightly as he laughs. "Yeah, I've had days like those." 

Castiel is absolutely captivated by Dean when he laughs, just like always. It shakes his shoulders, and his whole body moves with it. The lines around his eyes deepen, but instead of making him look older, it just makes him look more charming. 

Castiel realizes he's staring when Dean tilts his head curiously.  He blinks and mentally shakes himself. _Don't scare him off with the creepy staring,_ he scolds himself. It was something he tended to do without realizing, and he doesn't want to make Dean uncomfortable. And it had been a little over a week since he’s seen Dean, so the last thing he wants to do is give him cause to avoid the bakery. 

"So what would you like today?" He asks briskly. 

“Muffins.  Mix it up.” 

Dean's request is an easy enough order to fill.  Castiel pulls out a box, and goes behind the display case to start pulling out muffins of all different kinds. There's blueberry, strawberry lime, and cherry coke (Dean’s new favorite). Once he's got the box filled, he pauses. He looks up at Dean through the display glass, noting with amusement the way his features are warped by the curved surface. "And what do you want for yourself? Another chocolate cake bacon donut?" 

"Oh, um. You don't have to do that." 

Castiel rolls his eyes. "I know, but I'm doing it anyway." 

That earns him a smile, and he feels warm wings fluttering in his chest. It's a standard reaction whenever Dean smiles. 

"Well everything you make is friggin' fantastic, but honestly I'm a pie guy." 

Castiel glares at him in reproach through the glass. "You've been coming in here for weeks, and you've never told me that." 

Dean shrugs. A gesture that looks shy, and makes him look young when paired with a sheepish twist of his lips. "I'm usually not buying things for myself when I come in here." 

Castiel tsks and lifts the box of muffins on the counter. He gestures to the pie case under the counter where the register sits. Castiel doesn't sell them by the slice, but he's willing to cut one up and make an exception for Dean. "What flavor do you want?" And before Dean can protest, he adds "And I'm not taking no for an answer." 

Dean crouches down so that he can look at the selection. "Yeah, I kinda got that." Their eyes meet through the display case when Castiel squats down on the other side, and he grins. "I like them all. Surprise me?" 

Castiel will never get tired of hearing that. 

He reaches for the Raspberry Lemon Meringue. "I'll be right back," he says over his shoulder as he heads back to the kitchen. 

Alfie looks up at him from where he's measuring dough out for baklava. Cas ignores his questioning look and grabs a knife. He cuts out a quarter of the pie and sets it in a small box he'd grabbed from behind the counter. 

A sudden wave of bravery washes over him, and he rushes to the office to grab a business card and a sharpie off the desk. He scribbles a note across it and then tucks the card into the box with the pie. 

His pulse is throbbing loudly in his ears, and he tries to tell himself to calm down. But Benny's words from before are repeating over and over in his mind. He doesn't know if Dean even likes guys, but it's a risk he's willing to take. Dean is always asking Castiel to surprise him and he hasn’t been disappointed yet. Here’s hoping that Dean will like this particular surprise as well. 

Castiel winks at Alfie before leaving the kitchen, and heads back out to the register. Now that he’s made his move, he’s feeling much more confident and there is a distinct bounce to his step. 

Dean is back in front of the display case, looking at the treats inside with intense concentration. Castiel can't help but take a moment to admire the lines of his body under the dark cloth of his uniform. He's tall and built thickly. He's standing with one knee cocked out slightly, hands braced on the belt hanging from his hips, and Castiel thinks that all he needs is a broad brimmed hat to look like a cowboy. When Dean notices Castiel, his head swings around and his eyes light up with his smile. It's only a few steps from where he stands to the register, but he very clearly walks with a swagger. On most people it would look awkward, but on Dean it's just sexy. 

Castiel sets the boxed pie on the counter next to the muffins, and turns to the register to ring them up. He charges a ridiculously low price again with the same lame excuse about giving cops discounts. He doesn't charge for the pie. 

From the look he receives, it is obvious that Dean noticed the omission, but Castiel merely smiles and slides the boxes across the counter. 

"Thanks, Cas." Dean’s voice is a low rumble that makes Castiel's fingers curl against the counter. Castiel forces himself to smile. "Enjoy your pie, Dean." 

Then he's watching Dean swagger out of the shop, his exit accompanied by the familiar jingle of the bell. Dean stops to hold the door open for another customer, the boxes he holds balanced easily on one hand. 

The bounce stays in Castiel’s step and he’s more cheerful than he has been in days.


	5. Chapter 5

Saving the slice of pie for lunch is probably one of Dean's worst ideas, because it is calling Dean's name like a friggin' siren. 

He and Benny don't have patrol until later that day, and at the moment he is stuck at his desk doing mindless paperwork. It's almost enough to make him wish for a call to come in just to make things a little more interesting. He doesn’t really want things to happen that would require police intervention, because he usually appreciates what a peaceful day at the station symbolizes, but it would get him away from the pie sitting on his desk and distract him from the confusion swirling around in his head. 

Thoughts of Castiel have been making him space out all morning. One minute he’s typing away, completely consumed with finishing his report and the next he blinks back to attention to find that he has been staring blankly at his screen for ten minutes. He huffs at himself in frustration when he realizes it and gets back to work, ignoring Benny’s curious looks from the desk across from his. 

His productivity doesn’t last long though, and his thoughts inevitably drift back to Castiel. 

It is a strange name, but kinda cool too. And it fits. The man it's attached to is handsome, with a strong jaw lined with stubble, dark hair that Dean still wants to tame with his fingers, and eyes so blue that the sky should be ashamed of itself for not matching them. He looks almost otherworldly. 

Okay, so that last thought may keep popping up because he googled Castiel’s name and found out it’s an angel name. Dean thinks Cas would look pretty damn cool with a set of huge dark wings and holding a shining blade made of silvery light. Like a warrior angel. 

He rolls his eyes at his own whimsy and goes back to work, _again_ , doing his best to ignore the way his fingers twitch with the need to grab a pencil to draw the mental image. 

But when he stops thinking about Castiel, he thinks about pie, and his eyes keep drifting to the box sitting on the corner of his desk. He's so distracted, he completely misses the shadow that falls over him. 

"Oh, what's this?" Charlie picks up the pie box and perches on the corner of Dean's desk. She flips it open and her eyes light up. "And can I have a bite?" 

"Gimme that." Dean holds out a hand, flicking his fingers at her until she hands over the box. "I'm not sharing until I get to try it first." 

Charlie's bottom lip thrusts out in an exaggerated pout, and she doesn't give him the box. She pulls it slightly away from him and gives him an affronted glare. "Is that any way for Mal to treat Zoe?" 

"You know as well as I do that he wouldn't share his pie either. Now give it." 

Her lips quirk up in a smile and her head dips in acknowledgement. She starts to close the box, but something catches her attention and she reaches inside and plucks out a whip cream stained business card. She flips it over and looks at the back. One bright red brow goes up and she eyes him sideways. "So, who's Castiel?" 

No longer about to tackle her to get his pie back, Dean frowns. He snatches the card out of her hand instead and looks down at the writing. 

_Call me? - Castiel_  

There's a number written under it in round looping strokes. It almost looks feminine, but there's a slant to it that leaves it looking a shade too messy for a woman's handwriting. Of course, he knows that's no indication of whether it was written by a man or a woman, because Jo's handwriting looks like it was done by an illiterate chicken. Castiel's handwriting looks like something practiced, and Dean wonders distantly if he hand writes letters. 

His attention is brought back to Charlie when she nudges him in the shoulder. "So? Who is she?" Her eyes are bright as she leans forward as if he's about to share a conspiracy with her. And maybe she thinks he is. She knows he's been off the dating market for a while. "Is she cute? Not that it would matter if she's giving you pie. She's in like Flynn already, isn't she?" 

Too dumbfounded over the card in his hand, Dean doesn't even think to lie. "Uh, he's the guy who runs this bakery. And yeah, he's pretty good looking." 

Charlie's features morph quickly between a few different reactions. Her expression falls when she realizes Castiel isn’t a woman, then she freezes, her eyes widening with realization at what he'd just admitted. Dean might normally think it’s funny if his stomach wasn’t suddenly dropping through the floor in dread when he realizes what he just said. 

She slowly sets the box of pie down on his desk and shifts slightly before speaking, crossing her ankles and clasping her hands together over her knees.  Her tone is overly casual.  "Is he?" 

Dean slants a glare at her. His first reaction is to backpedal or to bark at her to go away and get back to her creepy laboratory downstairs. But this is Charlie, and if anyone is going to understand what's been going through his brain since he walked into that bakery for the first time, it's going to be her. 

He still can't help the defensive edge to his words though. "And what if he is?" 

Charlie's eyes widen further and she makes a small squeaking noise in the back of her throat. She lifts her head and looks around carefully to make sure there isn't anyone close enough to hear. 

Benny left a few minutes before to grab some coffee and hasn't come back yet. The area around them is mostly empty, and no one from the occupied desks is paying attention to them. Once she's sure the coast is clear, she leans down a little closer. "Well I guess I'd ask if you're planning on calling him or not." 

His heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his fingertips, and he drops his eyes down to look at the number scrawled across the card clenched between them. 

Is he? 

When Dean first started going to Heavenly Delights, he wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was excitement over the treats, or the man who baked them.  But when he visits the shop he always feels like his heart is skipping every few beats, and his mouth goes dry.  He tells himself every time that it is an anomaly, but then Castiel grins at him and welcomes him with that graveled voice and Dean knows the attraction is real. 

Sometimes he avoids the shop. But either he will convince himself that he is imagining things and he goes back on his own, or someone from the precinct will ask him to pick up more donuts.  Occasionally he chickens out and goes to the Gas’N’Sip instead, but he always finds himself going back to Heavenly Delights eventually.  Back to Castiel. 

"Ground Control to Major Tom!" Fingers snap near his ear, startling him out of his thoughts. 

Dean's head snaps up and he fixes a glare back in place for his meddling friend. She's grinning at him, and she looks so damn smug. "Wow, Dean-o. You've got it bad." 

"I do not," he grumbles, but he knows that she knows he's full of shit. He huffs out a frustrated breath. "I'm not gay, Charlie." 

She snorts. "Dude, you're a little gay." 

His leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest (he's not being defensive!), and glares at her. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

She gives him a look that says _you're an idiot_ and _why do I have to fix your big gay freakout?_ and _it's a good thing I love you_ all at once. She holds out one hand and ticks her points off on each finger. 

First finger, "Harrison Ford," second finger, "Doctor Sexy," ring finger, "Jon Snow," pinky finger, "New Captain Kirk," and then she folds her fingers into her palm, holding up her thumb in the universal expression of approval, "And this Castiel guy." Her grin is wide and proud after that last. 

He wants to argue with her, he really does. He opens his mouth to do just that, but then he shuts it and looks down at the box of pie sitting on his desk. He remembers Castiel's bright, open smile, and the way his dark hair defies gravity, and the impossible blue of his eyes, and the way he licks his dry lips and makes Dean want to lean forward and do it for him... the tiny flicker of interest that he's been trying to ignore flares to life again and he knows Charlie is right. 

Dean pulls in a deep breath, filling his lungs until he can feel a slight burn in his chest, holds it for a moment, and then lets it out in a rush. "Okay," he says at the tail end of the exhale. "Maybe-" he pauses to shoot her a warning look, and she quickly stifles her excited grin and endeavors to look solemn. It's so contrived that he almost laughs, but he's not quite ready to drop his facade of irritation. "Maybe I am a little bit." 

Charlie's serious look drops and she's grinning again. "So call him." 

She makes it sound so easy. He rubs a hand across his face, leaves his eyes covered. "How does this even work, Charlie?" 

"Dean, I am not going to explain the birds and the bees for you." 

A slightly hysterical laugh - which he will completely deny if confronted about it - slips out. He hasn’t even gotten that far in his thoughts yet, but yeah there is the whole possibility of sex that he’ll need to consider if he decides to call Castiel. 

Although… the idea of getting naked with Castiel is not exactly unpleasant. Far from it actually. But he is not going to discuss that with Charlie. That conversation will probably squick both of them out. 

"That's not what I mean." He drops his hand and stares down at the card in his hand. "What would we do on a date?" 

Charlie shrugs and reaches out to dip her finger in the whipped topping of the pie, sticks it in her mouth, and talks around the digit. "What would you do with a girl?" 

"Dinner, I guess," Dean answers. He's rubbing his thumb over the black ink on the business card, admiring the handwriting again. The more he thinks about it, the more the idea of calling Castiel feels like a good one. His heart is still pounding and his palms feel a little clammy, but he's not sure if that's lingering anxiety about asking a man out on a date, or if it's just nervous anticipation. "Maybe a movie? There's an air hockey table in the arcade there... maybe we could play a few rounds." 

"Sounds like someone's planning a date." 

Dean jumps so hard at the sound of Benny's voice that he nearly unseats himself. He ducks his head to try and hide the heat rising up in his cheeks as Benny comes around and settles at the desk across from his. He accepts the styrofoam cup of bad coffee his partner hands him with a small nod of thanks. To stall for an answer he takes a sip, grimacing at the weak flavor. But Benny is looking at him expectantly, and he knows he can't keep this from him. 

"Yeah." Dean’s voice cracks over the word and he clears his throat. He gestures at the box with the pie still in it, then smacks at Charlie’s hand when she steals another fingerfull of the whipped topping. He snatches it out of her reach to closes the lid. "Uh... I'm thinking of, um…" His cheeks heat even more, and he stares down at the pie box instead of looking at Benny. "Cas gave me his number, and I'm thinking of calling him." 

When there's silence coming from Benny's desk, Dean take a breath and looks up, defiance written in the angle of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. What he sees in his partner's expression isn't at all what he expected. Instead of shock or disgust, Benny is grinning at him. His smile is happy, with only a tinge of humor behind it. 

"That's great, brother," Benny says, his rough voice carrying genuine delight. "I like Castiel. He seems like a good guy." 

Dean straightens in his seat and frowns at him. "You're not surprised." 

Benny shrugs, sips at his own coffee, making a face at the poor quality, and pins Dean with his pale blue eyes and easy smile. "Maybe he ain't your usual type, but you always did have a thing for brunettes." 

Dean opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. Still nothing. His teeth snap shut and he looks up at Charlie for help. She just shrugs at him, her eyes twinkling merrily at his discomfort. He narrows his eyes - _you're not helping_ \- but she isn't the least bit cowed. He looks back and forth between them, seeing nothing but acceptance and amusement at his floundering. He flings his hands up and falls back on his original argument. "But I'm not gay!" 

Realizing he said that a little louder than he intended, he looks around. He's receiving a few curious looks, but everyone shrinks away from his glare. 

"Brother, you're a little bit gay," Benny counters with a rich chuckle. 

"That's what I told him!" Charlie chimes in. She reaches out a hand in an offer for a high five, and Benny returns the gesture with a gentle smack of his palm against hers. 

"I hate you both," Dean growls. "And I don't want to talk about this anymore."

 Doing his best to ignore their smug looks, he digs a plastic fork out of his desk drawer and pulls the pie box close. He flips the lid back off and digs out a giant scoop of creamy pink filling and fluffy whip cream. He shoves it in his mouth, and flavor explodes on his taste buds. Tart lemon and raspberry tingle on his tongue, the effect softened by the sweet whipped topping. A sinful moan slips out of him and his eyes roll up in bliss. "Oh mah gawd," he mumbles around the food in his mouth. 

And he knows he's lost the struggle to pretend he doesn't want to call the number Castiel slipped into the box. He's honest enough to know that the way to his heart is through his mouth - _STOMACH!_ his mind corrects quickly - and Castiel has unwittingly put himself on Dean's Favorite People list by giving him a free piece of pie. His two best friends don't give a shit that Castiel is a man, and deep down he knows that most of his family would accept it too. Sam and Jo for sure, and he's pretty sure Bobby and Jody and Ellen would too. 

"So you're going to call him?" Charlie kicks him lightly in the thigh. 

Dean takes another bite, rolling it around in his mouth thoughtfully. The only person he knows that might not accept his choice is his father. That thought sours his enjoyment of the pie, and he swallows thickly. He pokes at the fluffy filling for another bite, but doesn't lift it to his lips yet. "Will you guys do me a favor?" He asks softly. When he receives a chorus of assent, relief curls in him. "Don't tell anyone for a while." 

When he lifts his eyes, both of them are giving him solemn looks, but they both agree. He relaxes slightly and lifts his fork. "Then yeah, I'm going to call him." He pops the morsel in his mouth and it's just as delicious as the first bite. 

Charlie squeals with delight and flings her arms around his shoulders in a quick hug, nearly making him drop the pie, and it's a good thing he manages to keep it from falling because wasting any of it would be a terrible sin. She hops off his desk. "I've gotta get back down to the lab." She points a long slim finger at him and narrows her eyes at him sternly. "I expect a full report later." And then she's gone, sauntering through the desks in the bull pit and calling greetings to other cops. 

Dean turns to look at Benny who has busied himself reading a report, as if they hadn't just had a life altering conversation about Dean's sexuality. He glares at his oblivious partner. "Do I really give off gay vibes?" He asks after he's savored a few more bites of his pie. He's really enjoying the crust too. It's flakey and buttery and perfect. 

Benny doesn't even look up. "Don't get your panties in a twist, brother. This ain't a blow to your masculinity." 

The mention of panties makes Dean squirm uncomfortably. He'd never told anyone about his college girlfriend Rhonda and her ability to talk him into wearing her panties. Or the fact that it wasn't actually very hard for her to persuade him that first time, and after that it was sometimes his idea. "I love women," he protests weakly. He wasn't sure why he is still beating this dead horse, but he feels like he needs to at least make an effort. 

"I know you do, man." Benny flashes him a crooked smile, then turns back to reading his report. "Nobody said you don’t." 

Some of the tension in Dean's shoulders lessens at his partner's reassurance. Wordlessly he finishes the last few bites of his pie. He picks up the card with Castiel's number sitting on his desk, and quickly programs it into his phone before he can change his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never again... never again will I write a story in present tense. Oh gods, this is so haaaard *whines*


	6. Chapter 6

Even though he knows Dean is at work and may not have even discovered the card in the pie box yet, Castiel spends the rest of the morning distracted and jumpy. Any time there is a beep or a jingle his hand will swing toward his pocket where he keeps his phone until he realizes it's not his ringtone. And unfortunately his asshole brother has noticed his preoccupation and has started sending him the occasional text message. 

_You gave him your digits._  

Castiel ignores him which of course discourages nothing. His phone goes off again about ten minutes later. 

_The first call is not too early for phone sex._  

And then a few minutes later: 

_Sexting is an option too._  

He's half tempted to turn his phone off altogether, but is still just hopeful enough that Dean might call him that he resists the urge. Instead he gets his revenge by roping Gabriel into working the register. His brother is easily irritated by the simple questions and the customers who hem and haw over their decisions for longer than thirty seconds, and Castiel doesn't bother to hide his dark smirk when he sees one of their regulars come in. The woman has been coming to the shop for almost the entire year they have been open, but she still has to ask what is in every pastry in the display. 

"You're cruel, Cassie," Gabriel moans as Castiel retreats back to the kitchen. 

"You are a surprisingly adept teacher, Gabriel," Castiel calls over his shoulder. 

Unfortunately, getting lost in the systematic motions of prepping and baking and cleaning does not help Castiel keep his mind off his green eyed officer. He's so adept at his craft that it just leaves more time for his mind to wander. The day drags on slowly, and by the time he and Gabriel are finishing their closing ritual he's sunk into a despondent fog. 

An arm thrown over his shoulder as he stands up from his crouch in front of the office safe startles him into nearly dropping the bag of money he needs to take to the bank. 

"You just gave Officer Buns of Steel your number this morning, right?" Gabriel asks, his eyes uncharacteristically sympathetic. 

Castiel nods as he zips the bag up. He avoids his brother's eyes, and pulls out from under his arm so he can tug on his trench coat. He doesn't speak until he has the bag carefully hidden in an inner pocket. "He's probably too busy to call. I believe he was on his way to start his shift when he came in this morning." 

"Well there you go then." Gabriel's voice is bright and encouraging. "Plus there's that whole forty-eight hour rule." 

Tension Castiel hadn't known he'd been carrying drains out of his shoulders and he finally gives Gabriel a weak smile. "I hate that rule." 

"God, me too!" Gabriel throws his arm around Castiel's shoulder again, pulling him close in a companionable hug and walking with him through the bakery and out the front door. "Whose bright idea was that anyway?" 

Castiel just shakes his head and chuckles in response. 

"Do you want a ride home?" Gabriel tosses a thumb over his shoulder to bring Castiel's attention to the old Cadillac that he's had since high school. He keeps bitching about maintenance costs, and threatening to buy a new car, but Castiel knows he’ll probably never give it up since he’s so fond of it. 

A cold breeze sneaks past the collar of Castiel's coat, reaching its fingers down his spine and making him shiver. It's not that late, but in the shortening winter days it's almost dark by the time they close shop for the day. He tilts his head as he contemplates the offer, but after a moment shakes his head in the negative. "No, I believe I would like to walk." Nervous energy is making him restless despite the long day spent working. He hopes the extra exercise will be enough to make him tired so he can fall asleep at a normal hour tonight. "Thank you, though." 

Gabriel just gives him a small smile and a nod before turning to jog toward his car. Castiel waits until his brother is in the car and the decrepit pile of junk has started, then he turns to walk in the opposite direction. His apartment is the other way, but he still has to drop his deposit off at the bank. It isn't very far, but he needs to hurry to make sure he gets there before they close. 

Despite the fact that it's still only early evening, the street is mostly empty. A lot of the shops in this area close by four in the afternoon. Heavenly Delights closes at three, but clean up and prep for the next day is usually enough work to keep Castiel and whoever is working with him that day there until five at the earliest. Castiel typically drops off his deposit immediately after lockup, then heads home for a simple dinner, maybe a few hours of television or reading, and then bed by nine. On Friday and Saturday nights he may occasionally vary that routine to spend an evening with Balthazar at his club, but for the most part the only time he doesn't keep "old men's hours" is when Michael calls him. 

No matter how tired Castiel is from a long day of baking and cleaning, those are calls he never ignores. Unlike Balthazar, who Castiel ignores more than half the time. It's a wonder that Balth even tries any more, or even considers him a friend. But they've been close since they met in culinary school, and he's grateful that the other man still makes an effort despite Castiel's anti-social tendencies. 

It's not that he's really anti-social. He enjoys people's company once he's out. He just doesn't thrive on constant social contact with strangers the way Balthazar does. More often than not, he's content to spend a quiet evening either by himself or with someone to keep him company while he complains about the horrible storyline on Doctor Sexy. Despite his hatred for the show, he's completely addicted to the train wreck and never misses an episode. 

He’s still pissed that Dr. Piccolo is fooling around with that new neurosurgeon who obviously doesn’t appreciate her.  Really, she should value herself far more than she does. 

He’s still almost half a mile from the bank when Castiel's thoughts are interrupted by a strong arm coming around his neck. He's too shocked to react at first which give his assailant just enough leverage to jerk him into the darkened alley he'd just passed. 

For a few heartbeats panic clouds his mind. He can hear the man's voice, demanding his money. He can feel the cold, sharp edge of a knife blade pressed against the skin of his throat. But he can't really process what's happening to him. His muscles freeze, his vision blurs, and a roaring fills his ears. 

But it doesn’t last very long, and his thoughts snap back into focus. "Fuck you," he growls, just before going limp in the mugger's arms. 

The man holding him isn't expecting to suddenly need to support six feet of muscled man, and his grip loosens on Castiel enough to allow him to pull free. Castiel spins and kicks out at his assailant's legs, connecting hard enough to hear a satisfying snap and a scream. 

The mugger falls back against the wall behind him, but flails at Castiel's face with his knife. The flash of silver in the darkness gives him just enough warning to bring his arm up to protect himself. Pain blooms across his forearm as the blade slices through his coat and into the flesh underneath, but he ignores it. He swings with his other fist, connecting with the man's jaw. 

The whole interaction takes seconds before the fight is over. The man slumps to the ground, out like a light. 

It takes a few minutes of heavy breathing before Castiel moves again. Without taking his eyes off the man at his feet, he pulls out his phone. His fingers are sure as he dials 911, and his voice is steady when he makes his report and rattles off his location. 

As he waits for the police to arrive, the operator stays on the line with him. He knows he responds to her questions, but is only vaguely aware of his answers. He can't take his eyes off the other man. Fear that he'll wake up and attack keeps Castiel's heart pounding overtime. Time seems to move at a strange pace, and by the time he sees the flash of red and blue lights he can't tell if it feels like a lot of time has passed, or only seconds. 

"Sir! Are you alright?" 

"Castiel?" 

The familiar voices bring Castiel's eyes up. He finds himself staring at Dean, trying to pick out the greens and golds of his irises and getting frustrated when he can't because it’s far too dark in the alley. 

Dean gives him a half smile and approaches him carefully as Benny, who had spoken first, goes to check on the mugger who is just beginning to stir. "Dude, are you okay?" Dean tentatively reaches out and puts a hand on Castiel's shoulder. 

The weight of his hand is enough to bring Castiel out of his daze. He blinks and nods, looking away to hide his embarrassment over staring. "Yes, Dean. I am fine." 

Dean watches him closely for another moment before nodding his acceptance. His fingers squeeze gently through the bulk of Castiel’s coat before slipping away. His voice is still soft and comforting, but his tone changes subtly, sounding more professional. "Come out of the alley while Officer Lafitte takes care of things," he tilts his head toward where his partner is reading the mugger his rights. "And I'll get your statement." 

Castiel nods absently, painfully aware of the distance between himself and Dean and wishing he hadn't stopped touching him. But he follows Dean out of the alley, moving out of the way of the paramedics. "I believe I broke his leg," he says once he comes to a stop next to Dean's squad car. 

A snort of laughter brings his attention back to Dean, who's pulled out a pen and a pad and is writing quickly. "Damn, Cas. I didn't think you had it in you." 

This makes Castiel frown. "What do you mean?" 

Dean looks up and gestures at Castiel with his pen. "I dunno, man. You just don't look like the type who can kick ass." He shifts a little uncomfortably. "I mean... you're a baker." 

Castiel's frown deepens and he tilts his head as he tries to understand Dean's point. "You believe bakers are..." he pauses a moment to find the right word. "Weak?" 

Dean's eyes widen in chagrin. "No, Cas. I mean, I guess I just thought maybe you'd be more of a pacifist?" He glances over to where Castiel's assailant is being helped onto a gurney. Apparently he's going to be taken to the hospital. "Not quite so badass?" 

He looks so guilty over possibly offending him, that Castiel finally smiles. "I have older brothers, Dean. I had to learn a little bit of self defense." 

Dean suddenly snorts with laughter. "Okay, yeah I get that. My brother is pretty scrappy and I'm sure that's all on me for picking on him." 

They grin at each other for a moment, and Castiel marvels at how good it feels to just stand close to Dean and laugh over their childhood brawls with their brothers. Once again he wishes Dean would touch him. He shivers at the thought. 

Dean's eyes widen again, probably because he realizes they're both staring now and he clears his throat and looks down at his notepad again. "So, about that statement-" he breaks off and takes a step closer to Castiel. He's no longer smiling. His face collapses into a concerned frown and he reaches out to grab his wrist. "Cas, you're bleeding." 

And that's when Castiel registers the warm slide of blood down his arm. He can feel it dripping off his fingers as he lifts his hand to look. All he registers when his eyes land on the slash on his arm is a detached sense of surprise. "Yeah, he had a knife and he went for my face." 

Dean's fingers are gentle when he turns Castiel's arm so that he can look at the damage. For a moment his expression morphs into something that Castiel doesn't understand but it's quickly overtaken by a thunderous scowl. "Dammit, Cas. You shouldn't have fought him." He turns and calls over his shoulder for a paramedic. 

"I have the entire day's worth of profits from the store on me, Dean," Castiel explains. One of the paramedics jogs over and he holds out his arm obediently, but he doesn't look away from the angry officer in front of him. "Losing that much money would be catastrophic." 

"It's not worth your life!" 

The angry growl in his voice does interesting things to Castiel's insides. The little wings that had been fluttering inside his chest are trying to escape, spreading through his limbs, up into his throat, and down into his groin. The timing is completely inappropriate for arousal, but there it is anyway. "I'm still alive, so that isn't an issue." 

Dean opens his mouth for what looks like an angry retort, but the paramedic interrupts. "It doesn't look like you'll need stitches. It looks like your coat took most of the damage before the knife could get to your skin." She pauses and tilts her head toward the ambulance in an invitation. "I can wrap it up for you here. Save you a trip to the hospital." 

Castiel sighs in relief. He doesn't have insurance, and he winces at the thought of medical bills. "Yes, that would be good. Thank you." 

He follows the paramedic to the back of the ambulance, taking off his coat as instructed and sitting on the back when she gestures at him to do so. Dean followed them and is watching carefully, almost protectively. It's an odd sensation, but nice all the same. Castiel keeps his eyes on the delicate hands cleaning and bandaging him with gentle care. He's afraid if he looks up at Dean, he'll start staring again. 

Once the paramedic - she'd introduced herself as Ava once she had him seated - finishes wrapping his arm, she smiles and pats him on the shoulder. "You should be good to go. Keep it clean, and if you can, try not to get the bandages wet." She gives him a few more instructions on how to care for it then climbs into the back of the ambulance. 

Castiel steps away from the vehicle as they prepare to leave. Benny is in the back with the prisoner, and Castiel is left alone with Dean for the moment. 

"Do you need a ride home?" 

Castiel's attention is pulled back to Dean at the sound of his gruff voice. Dean isn't quite looking at him. He's shifting from foot to foot, and nervously running his knuckles back and forth over his jaw. He almost looks shy, and Castiel's lips curve up in a small smile at the other man’s incongruous actions. He opens his mouth to decline the offer, but then he remembers the pouch full of cash still hidden in his coat's inner pocket. His walk to the bank took him even further from home, and- 

"Shit." 

At the unexpected curse, Dean finally looks right at him. One tawny brow goes up in question. Castiel scowls and looks down the road to the bank. "The bank is probably closed by now." 

Dean lifts a hand to look at his watch, and his face wrinkles in a grimace. "Yeah, you've probably got five minutes. Even if I flip on the lights and sirens, we wouldn't make it in time." 

A laugh escapes Castiel at the idea of riding to the bank with the sirens on. "You'd do that for me?" 

Dean's grin is wide and mischievous, all hints of shyness hidden away behind the twinkle in his eyes. "What use is being a cop if you don't abuse the siren now and then?" 

"Well there's always the handcuffs." Castiel just barely resists the urge to slap his hand over his mouth. He'd been telling himself that he wouldn't flirt with Dean as much until he knows if the attraction is mutual, but apparently that memo hadn't reached the entirety of his brain yet. 

To his surprise, Dean throws his head back and laughs. It is a full throated sound, full of genuine joy and amusement. His grin when he looks back at Castiel is infectious. "The cuffs don't usually come out for the first few dates, but yeah. I guess you could say they're a perk of the job." 

It's hard to tell in the thickening dusk and the flashing red and blue lights from the squad car, but Castiel thinks Dean may be blushing. His eyes are wide, as if he's slightly surprised at himself. But his expression is still open, expectant, and Castiel realizes he's still waiting for an answer to his invitation. He pauses to consider. His apartment isn't far, but he does have a large amount of money on him. It would be stupid to tempt fate twice. He dips his head in a small nod. "I would appreciate the ride, thank you." 

Dean's shoulders shift as tension leaves him and he grins again. With a wide sweeping gesture of his arm he motions for Castiel to precede him. "Come on then. I'll even let you sit in the front seat. Just don't tell anyone." He winks before turning to lead the way to the car. 

The wings are fluttering inside Castiel's chest again. Dean hasn't ever flirted with him so openly before. Balthazar and Meg like to tell Castiel that he's oblivious to flirting, but it's not true. He recognizes it, but only when he's interested. And with Dean, he's definitely interested. He’s just confused because he is still uncertain of Dean’s sexuality. 

And he doesn’t know if Dean found the card with his number or not, which only adds to his uncertainty. 

The ride is quiet other than Castiel's murmured directions, but it is not uncomfortable. Despite the space separating them, Dean is a warm presence next to him and Castiel finds it soothing. He's disappointed when the car pulls up in front of his apartment complex. It would have been nice to spend a little more time ensconced in the small space with the other man. 

"Thank you," he murmurs as he reaches for the door handle. "You didn't have to do this." 

"Protect and serve," Dean retorts. "It's all part of the job description." He reaches for his own door and climbs out. He bends down to look into the car at Castiel who had frozen in surprise. His teeth flash white against his golden skin when he smiles. "Come on, Cas. Let me walk you to your door." 

Castiel tries to ignore the part off his brain that has started to run through crappy porno scenarios involving Dean saying just those words and gets out of the car to lead the way toward the stairs going up to his apartment. He can hear the crunch of Dean's footsteps following him, and he smiles slightly, happy that he'll have a few more minutes of the other man's company. 

His apartment isn't protected by a security door, which is why when he moved in he requested a unit on the top floor. Moving his furniture up three flights of stairs and carrying groceries up on a weekly basis has its downsides, but he figures that thieves will be less likely to target him if they have to do that much legwork. But the place is decently lit and the neighborhood isn't known for a lot of crime. 

_A lot isn't none_ , he thinks bitterly, remembering how close to home the attempted robbery had been. He makes a mental note to not tell his mother or his sister about tonight's incident. They were likely to descend on him with attempts to get him to sell the shop and move back home until he can obtain "proper" employment and lodgings. He would have to tell Gabriel though. He is almost certain his brother will keep the secret. If nothing else, he can find some way to threaten his brother into secrecy. 

Dean is breathing a little roughly by the time they reach Castiel's door. "Damn," he huffs on a laugh. "I guess this is my sign that I need to lay off the sweets." 

"Don't blame the donuts," Castiel says lightly as he slides his key into the door lock. "I eat plenty of them, and I'm fine." Of course, in addition to being used to walking to and from work, the trek up the stairs every day, and the prep work involved in running the bakery, he also goes running several times a week. 

"You're inhuman," Dean grunts. 

Castiel laughs and shakes his head. "Not quite. Just in better shape." 

"Well I guess I'll have to start hitting the gym more often." Dean's voice is less rough as he catches his breath. "God knows I won't be giving up treats." 

They're standing just outside the open door, smiling at each other. Castiel isn't sure whether Dean is telling him he'll still be coming to the shop or not, but he's going to pretend just for the moment that that is exactly what he means. 

Dean is the first to break the moment. He glances away and clears his throat. "I uh... got the note you left me." 

_Oh._ Castiel blushes and looks away as well. He isn't sure what to say. 

While he's still searching for words that won't make him sound too desperate or disappointed, Dean speaks again. "I meant to call you earlier today but work got a little hectic after lunch, and I kinda lost track of time. I was planning on calling you tonight, though." 

"It's ok, Dean. You don't have to-" 

"But I want to," Dean interrupts quickly. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck and Castiel finds the nervous gesture cute and endearing. 

"I'll be honest; you kinda freaked me out a little bit." Dean glances up, his eyes a dark forest green in the yellow porch light. His smile is shy again, but he holds Castiel's eyes. "I've never uh... I've only dated women." 

So Dean is straight. Straight and unsure how to let Castiel down gently. He sighs, making no attempt to hide his disappointment now. But he does manage a small smile. "I understand. I hope I haven't offended you. I'd hate to drive away your business." He turns to step inside his apartment. "Thank you for the ride." 

"Wait." 

A strong hand gripping his upper arm makes Castiel stop and turn back, schooling his face into polite curiosity. Dean's bottom lip is pulled between his teeth in an uncertain gesture, and he's obviously struggling for something to say. Castiel stays quiet, giving him the time he needs to think. 

"When I said I was going to call you," Dean finally says in a rough voice, "I meant that I was going to see if you wanted to.... you know, go out." He pauses, and his eyes drop to his hand where it's still gripping Castiel's arm. He lets go, coughing a little over his embarrassment. "I'm uh... free tomorrow night if you are." 

Castiel's smile blooms slowly, and Dean blushes even more, red racing over his skin all the way up to his ears. "I can make time." 

"Yeah?" Dean's voice is high pitched with something that sounds like excitement. He seems to realize it, and clears his throat. His voice is deep and level when he speaks again. "Great. Uh, I have a thing tomorrow afternoon. I'm not sure how long it'll take, but I should be done around seven or eight. We can grab something to eat if that's not too late for you." 

"That's perfect, Dean." 

Dean's grin outshines the dusty light bulb above Castiel's door. "Great. I'll call you." He starts to back away. "Have a good night." 

"Thank you, Dean. You too." 

Dean ducks his head shyly and waves before turning and trundling down the stairs. Castiel waits until he can no longer hear the other man and then goes into his apartment. He closes the door and leans against it. 

He has a date with Dean Winchester. He has a date with _a hot cop_. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket with the intention of calling Balthazar so he can cancel their plans for the next evening. It buzzes in his palm and there's a text message from a number he doesn't recognize. 

_U can call me 2 if u need anything or whatever_  

Castiel smiles at the screen. A few taps saves the number to his contacts list. Then he type out a reply. _Thank you, Dean._  

Not feeling up to actually speaking with Balthazar and explaining what happened, he just shoots off a quick text and a promise to call him the next day.  He doesn’t bother to contact Gabriel at all, because the conversation about the mugging can wait until the next day.  He slides the phone back in his jeans pocket and hangs up his trench coat. 

He frowns down at the torn and bloodied sleeve, fingering the fabric at the cuff. The coat is ruined now, and he’s not sure if it can be repaired properly. It’s a shame, too because it’s his favorite and he’s had it almost as long as Gabriel has owned his awful car. Maybe he’ll take a trip to a thrift store before he goes out with Dean and see if he can find something similar that he likes. 

A few minutes later he's in the kitchen staring at the sparse contents of his fridge when his phone buzzes again. He pulls his phone out, expecting something from Balthazar even though he’s hopeful that it's another message from Dean, but it's a call. He sighs when he sees Michael's name. Normally he would be happy to hear from the other man, but right now he's tired, sore, and starting to feel slightly sick to his stomach as the adrenaline drains out of his system. 

He's not in the mood to talk to anyone - except maybe Dean, his mind whispers - so he sets the phone on the counter and lets it go to voicemail. He decides on a grilled cheese sandwich and is pulling out what he needs when the phone rings again. A glance shows him that Michael is calling again. It takes almost the entire thirty seconds before it goes to voicemail for him to decide to answer it. 

"Hello, Michael." He knows he doesn't sound very enthusiastic, because instead of being glad to hear from him, Castiel is actually irritated that he's called. 

Michael's voice is a sensual growl. "Come over." 

At any other time, that husky command would have Castiel dropping everything and nearly running out of the apartment. Tonight it rubs him the wrong way. "Not tonight, Michael. I need to get some sleep." 

"Make one of your employees cover for you. I want to fuck you." 

The home baked loaf of bread in Castiel's hands gets mangled slightly when his fingers tighten around it. He keeps his voice even when he responds. "I am not going to do that. I have things I have to do tomorrow in addition to opening the shop." He sets the bread down on the counter, and runs a hand over his face and up through his hair, trying to rub away the irritation he's feeling. It's not Michael's fault that he's had a bad night. "I am tired, Michael. I need to sleep tonight." 

There's silence on the line, and if it weren't for the steadily increasing seconds ticking away on his phone screen, Castiel would think Michael had hung up. After a moment, Michael sighs. "Alright. I'll miss you though." 

Castiel smiles at that. Michael rarely shows that much affection for him. "I'll miss you, too." It's not really true tonight, but he wants to make sure Michael's feelings aren't hurt by his rejection. 

Michael huffs a little, but eventually says goodnight and Castiel is left in the silence of his kitchen. He looks at the bread and cheese laid out on the counter and his stomach twists uncomfortably. 

Eating is no longer an option, so he puts everything back in its place and moves quietly through his small apartment until he's in his room. He disrobes, letting his clothing fall in a pile at his feet next to the bed before he climbs onto it, naked. The sheets and quilt are not expensive, but they are old and soft from many washings and soothing against his skin. 

In the dark and the silence his mind starts to replay the mugging. The cut on his arm throbs, reminding him of how close he was to being hurt far worse. Fighting back was impulsive and stupid. That man's knife had been pressed against his throat, and it could have sliced so easily into the vulnerable flesh. 

Castiel's stomach twists again, and his limbs begin to shiver. He clenches his teeth together to keep them from chattering, and curls into himself under the quilt. He's not sure how much time passes, but the shaking doesn't abate. 

Squirming to keep fully covered by the blanket, he reaches down next to the bed to dig through the pockets of his pants and pulls out his cell phone. He fully intends to call Gabriel, but instead he taps on Dean's name in his contacts. He puts the phone on speaker, sets it on the mattress next to him, and listens to it ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is where the updates start slowing down. This is as far as I got in the story last year before I slammed face first into a massive case of Writer's Indecision. It's similar to Writer's Block in that it stops you from making progress, but it's not caused by lack of ideas or motivation. Instead it is "I HAVE FIVE DIRECTIONS I CAN TAKE THIS AND I CAN'T DECIDE OH NOOOOOO". Now that I have decided where I want to go, I have to actually start writing, instead of just editing. 
> 
> Meh. I need a magic spell that translates thoughts to AO3 format so I don't have to put so much effort into my storytelling.
> 
> Anyway! I expect to update about once or twice a week after this. That's my typical M.O. as long as I don't get stuck again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said to expect slower updates, but this chapter just happened like magic :D

Dean is on his way to the hospital to meet Benny when his phone rings. It's _Send Me an Angel_ , which is silly, but he'd set it to that song in a fit of whimsy. Shifting his hips so he can reach the phone in his pocket, he pulls it free and swipes the screen to answer. He puts it on speaker and sets it on the passenger seat. "Cas? You took the 'call me whenever' thing seriously, didn't you?" 

"Dean." 

Castiel's voice is strained, and the humor Dean had been feeling instantly drains away. "Cas, what's wrong, buddy?" There's silence on the line and he risks a glance away from the road to check and make sure that the call hasn't ended. "Cas?" 

"He could have killed me, Dean." There's a tremor in the words, and Dean can hear the panic lurking behind them. 

_Shit, he's freaking out._ He'd seemed unnaturally calm, and Dean isn't surprised that he had a delayed reaction. It was pretty common actually; to be calm and collected until after the shitstorm ended, and then to fall apart at the seams when it was safe to do so.  It was something he had even experienced himself a few times.  

Dean bites down on a curse, because Castiel needs him to keep it together right now so he doesn’t start to freak out even more. "You're fine, man. You kicked his ass." 

"But it was so close. He almost cut my face." 

Castiel is right, of course. Things could have been much worse. Dean had said so himself. But it's obvious from the fear in Castiel's voice that it is just now hitting him how close a call it had been. And Dean had left him by himself. Shit. "Cas, is there someone who can come over and stay with you tonight?" 

There is another pause, and the rustle of what sounds like cloth. "My family would... I don't want to call them, Dean." 

Dean glances at the time. His shift had been just about over when he and Benny had gotten the call about the mugging. Technically he doesn't have to head to the hospital, but he wants to make sure his partner gets back to the precinct. 

"Dean?" 

There's something fragile in Castiel's voice that makes Dean's decision easier. He slows the car, and makes a turn that will take him back to the police station. "Hang tight, Cas. I'm coming over." 

"You don't have to-" 

"Hey, it's probably best that you're not alone tonight. And you called me, didn't you?" 

There's another pause, during which Dean debates whether he should flip on the lights and sirens to get back to the station quicker. When Castiel speaks, his voice sounds a little steadier. "Thank you." 

"No problem. I've gotta stop at the station, and then I'll come straight over, okay?" 

Castiel mumbles a response, and ends the call. Dean picks up his phone and calls Benny to let him know what's going on. Benny is supportive of his decision, and offers to file the report himself once he gets the prisoner back to jail, and Dean is relieved that he doesn't take the opportunity to tease him. Anyone else would give him crap, but Benny knows when it's best to keep quiet. 

The trip to the station is short. He clocks out for the night, and grabs his duffle with his street clothes out of his locker. He doesn't bother changing because he doesn't want to take the time, and instead heads straight out to his car. On the way out, he shouts an order to Andy to go to the hospital to pick up Benny and the prisoner when they're ready, and then he's on his way to Castiel's apartment. 

When he's finally at the top of the stairs in front of Castiel's door, he takes a few deep breaths. Running up the stairs with his duffle over his shoulder left him winded, and he knows he needs to look calm for Cas. Finally he knocks. 

It takes a few minutes before he hears the scrape of bolts unlocking, and the door swings open. Cas is wrapped in a quilt that's made out of what looks like hundreds of colorful, mismatched patches. His hair is sticking up in all directions as if he's been running his hands through it. His skin is pale, and his eyes are wide, the pupils contracted tightly. The hand holding the blanket closed around his body is clenched so tight the knuckles stand out white. 

Dean immediately reaches for him, clasping his shoulder through the blanket. "Jesus, Cas. You need to sit down." He herds Castiel further into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him and hitching the strap of his bag higher over his shoulder. 

Castiel turns wordlessly and walks over to the couch where he sits down, carefully, as if his muscles are sore. Which, Dean supposes, they probably are after the fight earlier. The blanket falls to the side, revealing long muscled legs. Which are completely bare. 

And the tiny slice of Dean's brain that had been protesting _but I'm not gay!_ all week dies. Every brain cell fizzles out, and what's left over immediately jumps on the _holy shit I think he's naked_ bandwagon. The message is instantly transmitted south, and suddenly his uniform slacks are a little tighter than they were before. 

Castiel adjusts the blanket until he's covered again, and Dean is able to form coherent thoughts again. He moves across the room and sits down next to Cas, leaving space between them. When the other man doesn't look at him, Dean has to resist the urge to touch him again because he’s not quite ready to go there yet.   

His immediate urge is to comfort the guy, but he's still in his uniform and still armed.  He clears his throat. "Cas, do you mind if I change?" 

Blue eyes come up to meet his. They're wide with surprise as Castiel notices what he's wearing. "Yes, of course," he rasps out. One hand comes out of the blanket and gestures to the open doors at the back of the apartment. "You may use my room or the bathroom." 

Castiel pulls his hand back under the blanket, but not before Dean notices that his fingers are trembling. 

"I'll be right back," Dean assures him. He's stating the obvious, but the words do as they're intended. Some of the tension in Castiel's body eases and he nods, a grateful smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. 

He could use the bathroom, but curiosity takes Dean into Castiel's bedroom. It's not very large, smaller than his own bedroom in fact, but it's made smaller by the queen sized bed taking up most of the space. There is an old fashioned wardrobe against the other wall, and only just enough space to move between them. The walls are bare, and the so is the bed. Cas has obviously absconded with the only blanket. It wouldn't look lived in if it weren't for the mangled pillows and rumpled bed sheets, along with the pile of clothes on the floor in the corner. 

Curiosity appeased, Dean makes quick work of changing into some ratty jeans and a vintage Batman t-shirt, and hurries back out to the living room. Castiel is still on the couch, wrapped in that crazy quilt, head tilted back against the cushion, eyes closed. The blanket has fallen open, revealing the line of his throat and curve of his collarbones. Dean feels like a heel for wanting to see more, and pulls his eyes away long enough to set his bag down. 

But that only gives him a few seconds of reprieve. His eyes are drawn to Cas again when he walks across the room and settles onto the far end of the couch. There isn't a lot of space between them since it's just a loveseat, but Dean isn't sure what Cas needs from him, so he starts by giving him space while still being close enough to reach out and touch. 

He shifts on the couch until he's sitting sideways, one knee pulled up on the cushion, and an arm thrown over the back. "Okay. Talk to me." 

After almost a full minute of silence, Castiel finally speaks. His voice is a low growl, barely above a whisper. "I am sorry, Dean." 

Dean snorts and rolls his eyes. "What for?" 

Castiel finally opens his eyes. He lifts his head from the back of the couch and pins Dean with a steady blue stare. "I should not have called you." One hand slips out of his blanket and waves in a small gesture at himself. "You are not responsible for my well being." 

"Well there's where you're wrong." Dean taps a finger on the couch's back cushion. "Helping people is my job, dude." 

"You're off duty." Castiel is still staring at him, as if he can see Dean's soul and is trying to memorize it. 

Dean dips his head in acknowledgement. It's true that this is somewhat outside the bounds of duty. But helping people is what he does, no matter the time of day or whether he's getting paid for it. He joined the military right out of high school because he wanted to serve the people of his country. And when he got out, becoming a cop was the next logical step. He can't not help people who need him. It runs in his blood. 

He doesn't tell Castiel that though. It's a little too close to his heart. So instead he just grins cheekily at the other man. "C'mon, Cas. I've gained five pounds since you started sneaking me extra sweets when I come into your shop. I'd say that at least makes us friends. I don't mind being here for you if you need me." 

Castiel's expression shifts into something that looks like a smile, although it's mostly in his eyes. "Thank you, Dean." 

That smile makes Dean want to squirm in his seat. Not because he finds it attractive, although he does, but because it tells him that Castiel has caught a glimpse behind the walls Dean builds up around himself. He doesn't want to look behind those walls himself, so in an effort to deflect Castiel, he turns to humor as a defense. "You can always thank me with more free pie." 

That pulls a soft laugh from Castiel. He shakes his head and the rueful light in his eyes hints that he might know what Dean is trying to do, but he is allowing it. "I am afraid I do not have any pie here at the moment." 

"You're not exactly dressed for baking, either," Dean points out. He deliberately looks down at Castiel's covered body. When he meets Castiel's eyes again, he quirks an eyebrow. "Are you naked under there, Cas?" 

A flush spreads across Castiel's face. He pulls the blanket tighter around himself and looks away. "I am sorry, I should get dressed." Before Dean can protest, he's up off the couch and striding quickly to his room. The door clicks shut behind him almost silently. 

Dean breaths out a curse and relaxes back against the couch. He’s disappointed that he said anything. Then he’s cursing himself for being disappointed. Castiel called him because he was freaking out. He seems okay now, but Dean could clearly see that he was shaken by the events from earlier. Right now is not a good time to be perving on the guy. 

_This is not a date!_  

And on the heels of that thought, _Holy shit, I really am a little bit gay_. 

Because lightning would probably strike him if he tries to deny that he was hoping the blanket would slip and show a little more skin.

 

***

 

Castiel calls himself ten kinds of stupid as he drops his blanket on the bed. He grabs a pair of boxer briefs, some soft sweat pants, and a t-shirt out of the wardrobe, and starts pulling them on. He'd been so out of it when Dean had finally knocked on the door that he'd completely forgotten that answering the door naked for a man who was barely more than a stranger, and most likely straight, was beyond the boundaries of etiquette. 

Embarrassment over his actions chases away the last of his post-fight jitters, but now he's feeling a different kind of anxiety. Dean Winchester: _Hot Cop_ , is sitting on his couch because Castiel called him. 

_I shouldn't have called him,_ he thinks for the thousandth time since pressing send on Dean's number. If he didn’t want to deal with his family, he should have called Balthazar. His friend would have dropped everything to come over and keep him company during his freak out. 

But Castiel doesn't think that Balth's company would soothe him as much as Dean's does. As soon as he heard the knock on the door, the knots in Castiel's stomach had begun to unravel. During their short conversation, he finally began to feel a sense of normalcy. 

And he probably fucked it up with the whole nudity thing. 

Half expecting Dean to be gone, having taken his opportunity to escape while he was left alone, Castiel opens his bedroom door. Surprise and relief battle for dominance in him when he sees that Dean is still there. He's moved from the couch and is looking through the shelves lining the walls. 

When he hears the door open, Dean looks up. He doesn't look nervous or disgusted. Only curiosity colors his expression. "You've got crap organizational skills," he says simply, gesturing at the shelves. 

It's true. The shelf he's looking at is stuffed with movies, books, video games, and even a few notebooks that he uses to write down new recipe ideas. There's no rhyme or reason to their order. Castiel just shoves things on the shelf with the most open space. He remembers clearly where everything is though, so the system works for him. 

Dean pulls out a notebook and lifts a questioning eyebrow in Castiel's direction. "Go ahead," Castiel says. "It's just a bunch of recipes." 

Accepting the permission, Dean flips the notebook open and reads through a few pages. "Did you make these up?" 

"Most of them." Castiel moves closer and looks over Dean's shoulder. "Almost all of these are used in the shop." He reaches over and points out a recipe for peach pancakes. "Some of them don't really fit the theme." 

"Damn, those look good though." 

Castiel smiles at the wistfulness in Dean's voice. "Maybe I'll make some for you someday and you can decide for yourself." 

Dean looks at him through his lashes, the skin around his eyes creasing with his responding smile. "I'd like that, Cas." 

Tearing his eyes away in an attempt to not stare, Castiel gestures at the kitchen. "Would you like something to eat? I couldn't manage to get any food down earlier, but I'm starting to feel hungry now." 

"You don't have to do that, Cas." Dean closes the notebook and puts it back on the shelf. 

Shrugging, Castiel turns to the kitchen. "It's just grilled cheese, Dean." He grins over his shoulder. "I save pancakes for the third date." 

Dean huffs out a laugh. "Alright, yeah. I'll take one if you're cooking anyway." 

Castiel is very aware of Dean's presence behind him as he pulls out the things he'll need to make dinner. He doesn't feel crowded or uncomfortable like he normally would when people try to watch him cook. He also doesn't have the urge to fill the silence that is broken only by the sound of the butter sizzling in the pan. 

It's Dean who speaks first, as Castiel is flipping the sandwiches. "So what happened, Cas? You seemed fine when I dropped you off earlier." 

"I don't know," Castiel answers with a shrug. "I was fine and then I wasn't anymore. My hands started shaking and I felt sick." He sneaks a glance at Dean and is relieved to find no judgment in his expression. He scoops the sandwiches off the pan to some paper plates and turns to hand one to Dean. "I still feel a little shaky, but I think whatever was wrong is starting to pass." 

Dean's eyes are glued hungrily to the plate, but he nods at Castiel's words. "Probably an adrenaline crash. Happens to a lot of people." 

They make their way back to the couch and sit side by side again. Dean is turned sideways again, facing Castiel and watching him like a hawk. "Eat, Cas. It'll help." 

Realizing he's just staring at Dean, Castiel blushes and ducks his head a little. But he does as he's told and takes a bite of his grilled cheese. As soon as the food hits his tongue he feels ravenous. One sandwich is not going to be enough. 

Seemingly satisfied that Castiel is eating, Dean starts on his own dinner. He moans, a sound that Castiel thinks belongs in porn. "Damn, Cas. How do you manage to make grilled cheese even better?" 

"Salted butter, homemade bread, and extra sharp cheddar." 

Dean stares at him in disbelief as he chews. "That's it?" 

Castiel shrugs and grins at him. "Or maybe I'm a witch and I use magic." 

Dean snorts a laugh. "Warlock. Witches are women." 

“And you’re an expert on this?” 

“hell yeah, I am,” Dean says through a mouthful of bread and melted cheese. It should be gross, but Castiel thinks it’s kinda cute. “I know a lot about myths and legends and stuff.” 

Castiel quirks an eyebrow at him. Unlike Dean, he waits until he’s done chewing to speak. “Oh yeah?” 

Dean shrugs. “My little brother was into that stuff. I learned it so I could tell him stories when we were kids.” 

“What kind of stories?” 

“You know… stories about ghosts and werewolves and witches.” He pops the last bit of his sandwich in his mouth and smacks his fingers together over the paper plate to knock away the crumbs before rubbing the butter off on his jeans. “Sometimes it was tough to keep ahead of him so that I could surprise him with the story. Then I started making up my own.” 

“Are you a writer?” Castiel finishes his own meal and takes Dean’s plate to set it on top of his own. He could go for another one, but he’s more interested in Dean than food at the moment. 

“Not exactly. But I make up stories and draw dumb little comics.” He twists on the couch to reach down and behind him where he’d set his bag. “Here, let me show you.” 

Castiel watches, fascinated, as Dean pulls out what looks like a large notebook. Dean flips through it for a few pages and then turns it so Castiel can see it. Instead of lined paper, it’s sketch paper, and there are cartoonish characters drawn all over it. It’s not a very coherent story, but it appears to be a small woman with large eyes next to a huge man with floppy hair and a goofy smile. There is a dog at their feet with a skull and crossbones inside what looks like a cloud of smoke coming out of its butt. The couple is drawn again lower on the page covering their noses and melting as if the gas was dissolving them with its toxicity. 

He puts a hand over his grin and glances up at Dean. “Um, is that what I think it is?” 

Dean’s eyes twinkle as he leans forward. One thick finger that doesn’t look at all delicate enough to belong on an artist’s hand points at each figure. “That’s my brother Sam and his wife Jo.” His finger moves down to the dog. “That’s Bones. That fuckin’ dog has noxious farts if he doesn’t get his special dog food.” 

A laugh bubbles up in Castiel’s chest. “That must be awful.” 

“Yeah. I like to give him bites of my food when I’m over there and then clear out before it hits his intestines.” Dean’s grin is downright wicked. “Because I’m an asshole.” 

Castiel laughs again. “Yes you are.” 

Dean gives a little shrug like it’s some kind of accomplishment that he’s proud of but too humble to brag about. He leans back against the arm of the couch and gestures at the sketchbook. “You can flip through that if you want.” 

“Really?” Castiel blinks at Dean in surprise. “You’re not shy about what’s in here?” 

“Nah.” Dean winks at him. “The nudes are all in a different sketchbook.” 

Castiel grins and shakes his head before turning his attention back to the sketchbook in his hands. He flips to the front finds himself looking at a caricature of who he thinks is Benny. The next page is Jo again and it looks like she’s working behind a bar. “That’s a shame,” Castiel murmurs as he flips from page to page. “Nudes are what I was hoping for.” He’s pleased when Dean laughs. 

“Seriously, though,” he says as he comes across a very rough comic of two cops yelling at each other. The voice bubbles are drawn in, but the dialogue isn’t written inside them yet. “Aren’t most artists shy about showing their work? I thought the sketchbook was like the most sacred of bibles.” 

Dean shrugs again. “I’m pretty good. And I like to draw for people, so I don’t mind if people see it. Besides, showing off my work is always a surefire way to get laid. Chicks dig artists.” 

Castiel looks up at Dean through his lashes, wondering if he realizes what he just said. “Guys dig artists too, Dean...” 

Green eyes go wide with realization, and then a bright blush spreads across Dean’s face making his freckles stand out. “Uh… That’s not what I… I mean maybe, but… uh, yeah…” he trails off and grins sheepishly. 

Laughing at Dean’s embarrassment is incredibly rude, but Castiel can’t help himself. Dean is so flustered, and it really is adorable. “Calm down, Dean. I’m just giving you a hard time.” 

If it’s possible, Dean’s blush darkens even further, but he licks his lips and gives Castiel a flirtatious smirk. “Maybe after a few dates you can give me a different kind of hard time.” 

Castiel narrows his eyes playfully. “If that is a flirtation, it’s horrible.” 

Dean scowls. “Dude, that was smooth as fuck and you know it.” 

“No, it really wasn’t.” 

“Shaddup.” Dean reaches out and snags the sketchbook out of Castiel’s hands. “Give me that. Be nice and I’ll draw something for you.” 

“Would another grilled cheese work for bribery?” Castiel offers with an unapologetic grin. 

“Deal.” 

Castiel pushes himself to his feet and heads into the kitchen to make some more food. He fries up two more for each of them. His own appetite has returned with a vengeance, and he assumes Dean is probably a big eater as well since he’s larger than Castiel and has plenty of muscle rippling under his t-shirt that probably needs extra fuel. 

When he comes back to the living room, Dean has shifted to sit cross legged on his side of the couch and he’s staring down at his sketchpad in concentration, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He’s got a pencil in his hand and is scratching away at the paper. 

Castiel sits down next to him, but is unsure of the etiquette of watching an artist at work. Curiosity has him leaning over to look at what Dean is drawing. Instead of pulling away, Dean turns slightly to give him a better view, and Castiel gasps at what he sees. 

The figure on the page is drawn simply in a cartoonish style, but Castiel is positive that it’s him. He recognizes the curve of his own features and the messy mop of hair. He’s wearing his trench coat which is flared out around him as his body spins around. At least it seems as if his body is in motion with the way Dean is drawing him. 

Dean is working on the lines of the coat, and once that is finished, he goes back to Castiel’s hands. The figure on the page is soon holding a long tapered blade. Then Dean starts filling in more details. The other sleeve is ripped and what looks like blood is dripping from a gash in his arm. 

Castiel doesn’t know how long he watches, but by the time Dean is finished, the sandwiches are long cold, and Castiel’s back has gone stiff from sitting in a strange position for such a long time. Dean flips the pad around and presents it to him, smiling proudly. 

“Well? What do you think?” 

Castiel blinks at the picture and gropes for words. He looks tough and strong, like a hero in a comic book. “Is this…” his mouth is dry so he licks his lips and tries again. “Is this how you see me?” 

Dean shrugs and looks down at the picture, frowning critically. “Yeah, pretty much. You look like Constantine in that trench coat so that’s what I was going for here.” 

“Constantine?” 

Dean looks up at him in surprise. “Yeah, you know… Hellblazer?” He looks almost offended when Castiel shakes his head. “You don’t know Hellblazer? Dude, you are missing out.” 

He looks down at the picture and frowns again. He’s twirling his pencil back and forth in his fingers, and he looks a little bit agitated. Castiel isn’t sure if his lack of knowledge about this Constantine is bothering him for some reason. 

“What is it exactly?” Castiel asks softly. 

“It’s a comic book series,” Dean answers absently. “About a guy who hunts demons.” 

Castiel never had an opportunity to read comics since his mother thought they were kiddy stories for the uneducated. “That sounds interesting.  I would like to read them.” 

Dean didn’t appear to be paying attention. He was glaring at the picture now, his eyes darting back and forth like he was looking for something. 

“Dean? Is something wrong?” 

“Something’s missing.” Dean drags his bottom lip between his teeth again and twirls the pencil faster. 

Castiel leans forward again to look at the picture. “I don’t know, I think it looks exactly like me.” 

Dean’s head finally comes up and he gives Castiel a bright smile. “Yeah?” 

When he opens his mouth to answer, Castiel is interrupted by a jaw cracking yawn. He rubs his eyes, and looks over at the clock to find it’s a little past when he normally goes to bed. Suddenly the day catches up with him, and he’s completely exhausted. 

“Maybe you should get to bed, Cas,” Dean says gently. He sets his sketchpad on his lap and puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, squeezing in a gentle massage that makes Castiel feel like sinking against him and using him as a body pillow. “I can get out of your hair.” 

A spike of panic jolts him fully awake again. “It’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t have to leave yet.” 

Dean’s eyes are gentle, and he smiles. “You look half dead, man. And I don’t want to keep you up too late if you have to work in the morning.” 

Castiel grimaces and turns away. He really does need to go to bed soon, but he’s loathe to see Dean leave. “Yes, I need to get up at four.” 

Somehow sensing his reluctance to be alone, Dean shakes his shoulder until he gains Castiel’s attention again. “How about this? I’ll stick around until you’re asleep and I’ll do a drive around the neighborhood and make sure everything looks okay.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Dean.” 

“Yeah I do,” Dean says sternly. “Protect and serve, Cas. It’s my thing.” 

After searching Dean’s eyes for a moment, Castiel finally gives in with a nod. “Then I would like that. Thank you.” 

He gets up from the couch and gestures to the grilled cheese sandwiches on the table next to the couch. “Those are cold now, but if you want, I can make some fresh ones before I go to bed.” 

Dean puts his sketchpad on the arm of the couch and leans forward to grab one of the sandwiches. He takes a big bite and chews enthusiastically. When he swallows, he grins. “Nah, these are still good.” 

Castiel wrinkles his nose. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

He hesitates for a moment, not sure how exactly to say goodnight. This isn’t really a date, but it sort of feels like one since they spent a little bit of time getting to know each other. And he’s not exactly sure what he’s allowed to do or say with Dean since he’s just barely acknowledged that he likes men - or at least that he likes Castiel - enough to try dating. 

Dean takes the decision from him by standing and wrapping his arms around Castiel’s shoulders. “Good night, Cas. Get some rest.” 

Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and leans his face against his shoulder. A hug is definitely the best solution to his dilemma, and he’s glad Dean thought of it. He pulls away sooner than he wants to though and smiles up at the taller man. “Thank you, Dean. Good night.” 

He leaves Dean seated on the couch, happily munching away at the cold grilled cheese. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep right away, but he drifts off almost as soon as he lies down. 

The next morning when he emerges from his bedroom, Dean is gone. Castiel knew he wouldn’t stay all night, but he can’t help feeling a little disappointed anyway. 

When he flips on the light, something on the table next to the couch catches his attention. He picks up the sheet of paper and his breath catches when he sees that Dean left him the sketch he’d been working on. 

Dean added a huge set of feathered wings. They're so large that they fill the whole page, and they're spread aggressively. And there’s a note at the bottom written in sloppy handwriting. 

_Castiel - Badass Angel of the Lord. I may have Googled your name a while ago and found out what it means. The wings are pretty awesome, right? I still want to get together for a real date, so I’ll call you later. Text me if you need anything._  

_~Dean_


	8. Chapter 8

The new mirror is heavy, and Dean grunts as he lifts it from the remains of its packaging on the floor. It takes delicate maneuvering to get it into the bathroom and he mentally rolls his eyes at Lisa for needing such a huge mirror for such a small room. She told him it would make the room feel larger, which is Interior Decorator talk that he doesn't understand at all. But he doesn't need to understand, he just needs to follow orders. 

That's something he's damn good at. 

Once he's got the mirror situated right, he calls Lisa to help him hold it steady while he fastens it to the wall. Due to the small quarters, they're pressed closely together. In the past, his body might have reacted to the contact, but he barely notices it now. He still thinks Lisa is hot as hell, but the attraction faded years ago when their relationship changed from romantic to platonic. She's one of his best friends, and he just doesn't think of her that way anymore. 

It only takes a few minutes to get the mirror hung properly. Just as they're stepping away from each other to examine their work - and Dean grudgingly admits it does make the room seem bigger - the front door of the house opens and they hear Ben hollering a greeting. 

Lisa shoots Dean a smile. "Thanks for helping me out with this, Dean. I couldn't have done it by myself." 

He shrugs. "Anytime." 

"Hang out a bit," she says as she leads the way out of the bathroom. "Ben would love to see you." 

Dean had planned on it since he hasn’t seen the kid since his birthday a few weeks ago. Ben isn’t his, but that doesn’t matter to Dean. He loves the kid, and is always looking forward to hanging out with him. In the warmer months he sees him constantly because he takes Ben to his baseball games when Lisa can’t get away from work. Or sometimes they will just hang out and go to movies or go to the mall together. Lisa appreciates Ben having a man's influence in his life on top of the fact that she gets a free babysitter on occasion. 

When Dean comes out of the hall to the living room, Ben is sitting on the couch with his Gameboy. "Dude, I hope you don't have homework you should be doing," Dean says as he comes around the couch. He ruffles Ben's hair and laughs when the boy swats his hand away. 

"Mom already asked," Ben grumbles, but he's smiling up at Dean. 

"Awesome. How about some Mario Kart?" 

Ben lights up and sets his Gameboy aside. "You're on!" 

They play for a couple hours before Dean glances at the clock. He's got almost two hours until it's time to call Castiel. With a sigh, Dean sets his controller down. "Getting my ass handed to me has been a blast, kiddo. But I've got to get home." 

Ben makes a disappointed sound. "Do you have to?" 

"Yeah, buddy. I've got somewhere to be tonight and I need to get ready." 

Ben's frown morphs into the same mischievous grin that first made Dean think the boy might be his son. Lisa assures him that Ben is someone else's but Dean still wonders on occasion. He is sometimes tempted to ask for a blood test, but he doesn't want to push Lisa and inadvertently end their friendship. Besides, son or not, Dean gets to be part of Ben's life, and that's really enough. 

Ben's smile warns Dean that he is about to say something decidedly Dean-like. "Oh yeah? Is she hot?" 

Dean rolls his eyes and laughs. "You're too young to have such a one track mind." 

Ben shrugs, unperturbed.  "I like video games too." 

Dean snorts and captures Ben in a playful headlock. He gives him a noogie until the boy shouts uncle through his laughter. "How do you know it's a date?" He asks once he lets Ben go. 

Ben's grin is sly. "It's totally a date if you've gotta 'get ready'." He says the last while crooking his fingers in air quotes. 

"Air quotes? Really?" 

"Whatever dude. I'm not the one who's too chicken to admit he's going out with a hot chick." 

Dean opens his mouth to tell the little brat off, but he stops, suddenly uncertain. Ben thinks he's going out with a girl, and it's not really fair to let him keep thinking so. But is he ready to tell Ben that he's going on a date with a man instead? Dean is almost completely certain that Lisa will be cool with it, but what about Ben? Should Dean hide it from him now, only to risk it coming out later in a less desirable way? 

Deciding to just go for it, Dean keeps his eyes averted when he says "Castiel isn't a chick." 

From the corner of his eye he sees Ben shrug and pick up the Gameboy he'd set aside earlier. "Whatever. It's still a hot date, right? Admit it." 

Dean can't contain his surprise at Ben's easy acceptance. "It doesn't bother you that I'm going on a date with a guy?" 

Ben shrugs again. His thumbs are flying over the buttons, and he’s making faces at the screen. "Doesn't matter, does it? Do you like him?" 

"Yeah." 

"Cool." 

"Damn, kid, way to make me feel like a moron." 

Ben looks up at him with a grin. "It's not that hard."  

"Brat," Dean teases. He ruffles Ben's hair again, this time shoving lightly at his head and laughing when the boy grumbles at him for messing up his game. 

Deciding he’s taken enough abuse from the kid, Dean pushes himself up from the couch and goes in search of Lisa. He finds her in the kitchen pulling a very full bag out of the trash can. "Here, let me," he says, brushing her aside. He takes the trash out and comes back in to find her pulling things out of the fridge in preparation for dinner. "Do you need anything else before I take off?" 

Lisa gives him a surprised glance over her shoulder. "You're not staying for dinner?" 

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. Being in Lisa's kitchen has always felt a lot like home even though their relationship remains comfortably in the range of Good Friends. "Not tonight," he says softly. "I've got a date." 

Lisa turns a happy smile on him. "Oh really?" She angles herself towards him and rests her hands on her hips. "Who's the lucky lady?" 

Might as well just rip the bandaid off, he thinks. "Uh, his name is Castiel." 

The only indication that she's surprised is a blink and a pause, but then she's moving around the kitchen again, this time pulling out dishes. "Oh yeah? How did you meet him?" 

Instead of telling her the story, he frowns at her. "You're not even going to say anything about the fact that he's a guy?" 

Lisa shrugs, and by the way her lips are twitching he can tell that she's trying to hide her amusement.  "It's not really that surprising." 

"It's not?" He grunts. "But I'm not gay." 

Her dark eyes are full of mirth when she slants him a sideways glance from across the room where she's putting glasses into the cupboard. "You're a little bit gay." 

He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. "Why does everyone say that?" 

Lisa comes to stand in front of him and puts her hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. She gives him a serious look that's ruined by the twinkle in her eyes. "Would it make you feel better if I freaked out about it?" 

"Maybe a little," he grumbles sullenly. Just because he's pretty much come to terms with the fact that he's not as straight as he thought he was, it doesn't mean he's cool with the fact that everyone else knew it before he did. 

Laughing at his petulance, Lisa pulls him down into a hug. "I'm sorry, Dean. But it really doesn't bother me." 

Dean wraps his arms around her waist and holds her close. There's affection and acceptance in her hug, and he closes his eyes for a moment while he soaks it in. "I guess I didn't really think you'd have a problem with it," he says quietly into her hair. 

She lets him go and leans back, giving him a concerned look. "Is there someone you're worried about telling?" When he doesn't look at her, she huffs in annoyance. "It's your dad, isn't it?" 

Dean just shrugs, and looks down at his scuffed boots. He frowns at them. He should probably put on something a little nicer if he's going to see Cas tonight. 

A soft hand on his jaw brings his attention up and he meets Lisa's dark eyes. She's giving him her Mom Look, and if it weren't for the fact that he is really worried about his dad's reaction he would think it’s funny since he’s a little older than her. "Dean, you know you can't let him dictate your whole life." 

"I don't-" 

Lisa shakes her head to cut him off. It was an argument they've been having for years. Neither one of them wants to rehash it again so he lets the words die on his tongue. "I know, Lis'," he concedes. And he does know, but old habits are hard to break. 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his car keys. "If you don't need help with anything else, I've gotta get out of here." 

Lisa's teeth flash in a wide smile. "Nope, I'm set for the night." She pulls him into another tight hug. "Go get him, tiger." 

A few minutes later and he's seated in his car, staring at his phone.  His thumb hovers over Castiel’s name in his contacts list, and he chews his bottom lip, wondering if it’s the right time to call yet.  Finally he taps the number and puts the phone up to his ear. After three rings he starts to worry that Castiel might have changed his mind and isn’t going to pick up, but halfway through the fourth ring there's a click indicating that the call has been answered. 

"Hello, Dean." 

Dean laughs and refuses to admit to himself that it sounds a little bit nervous. "Hey, Cas. Do you always answer your phone like that? What if it hadn't been me?" 

"Who else would it be?" Castiel's voice is thick with amusement. There’s a clang of pans in the background, so he must still be at work. 

"I dunno, man. I know a lot of assholes who might steal my phone for shits and giggles." The nerves that had been hounding Dean are fading quickly now that he's actually speaking to Castiel.  It’s good to hear his voice, even if it does sound different filtering through the tiny speaker. 

There's an amused grunt on the other end of the line. "You have a point. My older brother is a bit of a trickster. Prank calling people from my contacts would not be beneath him." 

"So, uh. You still want to hang out tonight?" Dean asks. Then he leans forward and bangs his forehead on the steering wheel. He sounds like a fucking teenager. 

"Of course. What did you have in mind?" 

"Are you hungry? We could get some dinner." 

"I would like that." 

"Alright," Dean says. He sits back up and reaches for the key in the ignition. The engine rumbles to life with a familiar roar. "I'll head over to pick you up in about an hour and a half." 

They end the call, and Dean pulls out of Lisa's drive.  A grin tugs at his lips, and his heart is pounding with excitement. 

Once he's home he hurries inside and heads straight for the shower.  He worked up a sweat at Lisa’s and while she’s used to his rank ass and probably wouldn’t notice a little B.O. he’s not going to subject Castiel to that.  A look in the mirror when he’s done tells him he's sporting a hint of stubble and normally he wouldn't bother with it, but since this is a first date, he decides to make a little more of an effort and shaves. 

Picking out clothes doesn't take him long. Nice jeans and a dark purple button down shirt and his leather jacket make him look good enough for most places he could take Castiel to dinner, and he's dressed in a matter of minutes. 

By the time he's heading out the door, Sam is just getting home. He looks exhausted when Dean meets him on the porch. "Hey man, rough day?" 

Sam sighs and his shoulders droop under his suit jacket. "I'm not sure this case is ever going to end. It's just one trial after another, and it's killing me." 

The niggling of a story idea buds in the back of Dean's mind at the words.  Something about trials to close the gates of hell, and how much of a toll it takes on the hero…  It's been a really long time since he's done a comic to cheer Sam up, but suddenly he's itching to do so. Actually, he's been getting all kinds of ideas lately, and as soon as he has time he's going to start working on them.  He tucks the idea away in the back of his mind, and hopes he doesn’t forget it later when he’s got time to sit down and draw. 

He claps a hand on Sam's shoulder and shakes him a little. "It'll be over eventually, Sammy. Don't let it get you down." 

Sam's grimace says he doesn't believe it, but he accepts Dean's assurances anyway. His eyes sharpen suddenly when he notices the way Dean is dressed. "What's up with the clothes, man? Got a date tonight?" 

"Yep," Dean answers with a grin. "And I've gotta leave now, or I'm going to be late." 

Sam's face lights up. "That's great, Dean. Good luck." 

If Sam mentions it, Dean will tell him about Castiel. But his brother looks like a shock will knock him on his ass, so Dean keeps the detail that Castiel is a man to himself for now. He smirks up at his little brother. "Dude, dressed like this? I don't need luck." 

Sam rolls his eyes and turns to open his door. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Have fun." He disappears into his side of the duplex and Dean heads for his car. 

There's a definite bounce in his step. 

When Castiel answers Dean's knock on the door, Dean has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his grin. 

Castiel's dark hair has streaks of flour it and it's sticking up in all different directions as if he's been running his fingers through it repeatedly. He's wearing what looks like half a bakery in flour as well, and it mostly obscures the Kiss the Baker logo on his t-shirt. 

"Hey, Cas," Dean says when he looks back up at the other man. "Did something explode today?" 

Castiel rolls his eyes, but his smile is warm and welcoming when he stands back to let Dean into the apartment. "I wasn't paying attention and I dropped a bowl of dry ingredients. It hit the edge of the counter and-" he waves a hand at himself, "this is what bakery accidents look like." 

Dean laughs and runs his eyes down Castiel's body again. "Better than an oven blowing up, I guess." 

"Sorry I'm not ready," Castiel says as he leads the way to the living room. "Cleaning that up kept me a little bit later than I intended. We're not going to be late for anything if I take a shower, are we?" 

Dean shakes his head and tries not to let his mind run away with images of Castiel naked in the shower. He's a little embarrassed at himself for how easily his mind goes there even though he's only accepted his non-heterosexuality less than forty-eight hours earlier. "We're not going anywhere fancy," he says when he realizes Castiel is still waiting for his answer. "So no reservations or anything." 

Castiel tells him to make himself comfortable and goes into the bathroom to get cleaned up. To distract himself from the sound of running water, Dean goes back to the bookshelf he'd looked at the night before. He grabs a notebook and flips through it. Food is usually a surefire distraction from his libido, and the recipes that he does manage to read look delicious. But he's unable to focus. 

All he can really think about is Castiel, wet and soapy, with only a thin wall between him and Dean. 

Dean closes his eyes, and pictures Castiel rubbing a washcloth over his skin. Then Castiel’s hands are replaced by his own. 

He whimpers at the mental image. His fingers feel twitchy with the need to touch and the need to reach for a pencil so that he can draw the places his imagination is taking him. 

Standing naked behind Castiel, burying his nose behind his ear and tasting the water on his skin. Nestling his hips against Castiel’s ass.  Castiel rocking back into him. 

Dean snaps the notebook he’s holding closed and puts it back in the shelf and rubs both hands over his face in an attempt to scrub away the image. If he doesn’t get a hold of himself, Castiel’s going to come out and find him sporting wood and get the wrong idea. That is not what Dean wants out of tonight. 

Okay, he wouldn’t be averse to fooling around. But if he just wants to get laid, he can do that any time with some random at a bar. This is a date. He likes Castiel. hell, he drew a picture of Castiel. That’s something he doesn’t usually do for someone unless they’re already pretty entrenched in his life. He dated Lisa for three months before he drew her. 

Thinking of the picture he’d left for Castiel the night before distracts him from his horny thoughts. Did Cas like it? Where did he put it? Did he show it to anyone yet? 

The water shuts off, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief. Castiel will be dressed soon, and Dean will- 

The bathroom door opens, and Castiel leans out wearing nothing but a towel around his slim hips. His hair is still sopping wet and dripping down onto his very broad, very tanned, very naked shoulders. “Hey Dean? I had to take the bandage off my arm and I'm having a hard time wrapping it back up myself. Could you help me out?” 

Dean’s brain had come to a screeching halt, and it takes a few seconds for the wheels to start turning again. He nods, unable to form words. 

Castiel grins at him, and the fucker knows what he does to Dean. He fucking knows. That realization does nothing to unglue Dean’s tongue from the top of his mouth. 

"Alright, give me a few minutes to dress." 

Castiel disappears back into the bathroom and Dean realizes he was holding his breath. “Holy shit,” he sighs. Resolutely he turns back to the shelf and pulls out another notebook to flip through. 

When Castiel comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later he's at least wearing pants and he's dry. His hair is even more ruffled, and no longer dripping. But Dean barely registers that, because Castiel is still shirtless, and he's even more gorgeous than Dean's imagination had made him.  He’s lean, but there is visible strength flexing under his tan skin.  Dean has never consciously marveled at the width of a man’s shoulders before, but he does now and oh hell yeah, he’s a little bit gay. 

Wordlessly he follows Castiel back into the bathroom. The air is still humid from Castiel's shower, and it smells strongly of coconut. Dean would normally think that's girly, but it's perfect for Cas. It's like he rubbed a coconut cream pie all over himself and - okay, yeah Dean is going to hop off that train of thought right now before he embarrasses himself or ruins coconut cream pie for himself forever. 

Castiel gestures at the first aid kit he has laid out on the counter. "There's gauze and tape in there." 

Dean nods mutely and pulls out what he needs. Castiel's skin is warm under his fingers as Dean gently covers the long gash on his arm. The sight of the injury is enough to cool Dean's libido, and instead of perving out over Castiel’s bare skin, he finds himself wishing he could have been the one to break the mugger's leg. He tamps down on his temper with the ease of long practice. The fucker is in jail right now, and Castiel is a little bit banged up, but he's fine. 

"That should do it," Dean murmurs as he presses the last piece of tape in place. He glances up at Castiel through his lashes. "Does it hurt much?" 

Castiel flexes his fingers and twists his arm to examine Dean's work. "It's tender, but not the worst thing I've ever experienced." He meets Dean's eyes and smiles. "Thank you, Dean." 

Realizing he's just standing there staring, and Castiel still needs to finish getting ready, Dean clears his throat and starts to back out of the room. "I'll uh... just be out here when you're ready." He's aware he sounds like an idiot, but he finds that he doesn't mind so much when Castiel smiles at him the way he does. 

When Castiel emerges twenty minutes later fully dressed, Dean is only slightly less struck stupid by his appearance than he had been when he was naked. Castiel is wearing charcoal grey slacks and a green button down shirt. The top three buttons are undone, showing off the curve of his collarbones. He’s freshly shaved and his hair is actually combed down neatly for once. 

It makes Dean want to run his fingers through it and rumple it up again. 

“I just need to put some shoes on and then I’ll be ready to go.” 

Dean’s eyes immediately drop to Castiel’s feet. His toes are long and graceful with just a little bit of dark hair dusting them. They wiggle, and Dean realizes he’s been staring. Again. His face warms as he brings his gaze back up to meet Castiel’s amused smirk. 

“Foot fetish?” Castiel teases. 

_Not until now._ “I’m open to it.” His eyes go wide when he realizes what he just. “Uh… I mean…” 

Castiel laughs, and turns away to go into his bedroom, giving Dean a reprieve from his knowing stare. He speaks through the doorway, which draws Dean closer to the opening where he sees Castiel sitting on the edge of the bed while he pulls on socks. “I suppose it’s rather unorthodox to shower while my date is waiting in the other room. I apologize again for not being ready when you got here. I’m usually much better about being punctual.” 

“It’s cool, Cas,” Dean murmurs as he leans against the doorframe. “I don’t mind at all.” 

Castiel finishes tying his shoes and stands up. He gives Dean a bright smile. “So? Where to? Or is it a surprise?” 

Yes, talk about food. This is safe territory. 

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets in an effort to keep from rubbing the back of his neck and bringing attention to the fact that he’s nervous. "So, uh... how do you feel about burgers? It's not fancy or anything but cops don't get paid as much as you'd think. But this place I know is great-" 

"I love burgers," Castiel interrupts. 

"Well okay then." Dean gives in and rubs the back of his neck, and he shifts from one foot to another. A soft laugh escapes him and he looks up at Castiel with a wry smile. "Y'know, I'm usually much better at this whole-" he waves a hand around vaguely, "dating thing." 

Castiel's eyes are burning into him and Dean struggles not to squirm under his scrutiny. His head tilts slightly and his eyes narrow as if he's trying to see something inside of Dean. "Are you feeling nervous because you've never dated a man before?" 

Is that it? Dean takes a moment to examine his feelings, something he absolutely hates to do.  

He's not uncomfortable with Castiel. If anything, he feels really good in the other man's presence. "Not nervous exactly. More just.... lost?" he finally admits. "I have dated a lot of women, and I know what to do. The right kind of jokes, the good places to go for dates. You know... I know the process." He barks out a short laugh. "I know the formula." 

Castiel laughs too. "You make it sound like you're following a recipe." 

"Maybe I am." It sounds silly when it's put that way, but it's pretty accurate. And it never fails, even if the relationships don't last all that long. 

Castiel shakes his head in amusement and grabs a jacket from the hook next to the front door. It's not the trench coat he was wearing the night before, and while he still looks good, Dean kinda misses the other one. He liked the Constantine Look. "Well it's not much different for men.  Haven't you ever had a woman pursue you?" 

Dean snorts and follows Castiel out the door. "Yeah, I have," he answers. "But I'm a lot easier than most women." 

Looking over his shoulder as he locks his door, Castiel cocks an eyebrow at him. "Does this mean we're getting to third base tonight?" 

The breath Dean sucks in goes down the wrong way, and he chokes. It takes him a few minutes before he can speak, and his eyes are watering slightly. "Jesus, Cas," he manages to gasp out. 

Castiel's brow had furrowed with concern, but now he grins, a wicked blue glint in his eyes. "Wow, we're already at Jesus? Must not take much to get an 'oh god' or two out of you." 

Dean barks out another laugh, and gestures for Castiel to precede him down the stairs. "How about dinner first? I have a feeling if I let you past first base I'll need my calories." And just like that he slips into comfortable flirtation. His cheeks still feel warm, but it's a feeling that's spreading through his whole body. And he likes it. A lot.


	9. Chapter 9

When Castiel sees Dean's car for the first time he freezes on the sidewalk several feet away. "That's yours?" 

With a smirk Dean steps past him and unlocks the door. He opens it and waits for Castiel to slide in. Once he slips into his own seat behind the wheel he looks over to see Castiel running his hands reverently over the edge of the door and the leather of the seats. "You like classic cars, Cas?" 

"I wouldn't say I know a lot about them," Castiel answers as Dean turns the key in the ignition. Dimples crease his cheeks when he smiles at the rumble of the engine. "But I can appreciate a beauty like this." 

They fall into easy conversation about the car. Dean talks about how his father gave it to him as a graduation gift even though he'd practically owned it since he was old enough to drive. He doesn't know if Castiel really understands the details of how Dean is careful to keep his Baby in top condition, but unlike the last few girls Dean has dated, Castiel at least seems like he's interested. And by the time they reach the restaurant, Dean's completely relaxed. Talking about his Baby always puts Dean at ease. 

"You ever been here?" Dean asks as they walk into the noisy bar and grill. It's his second favorite place to eat after The Roadhouse. He never takes his dates straight there, or he'll spend the entire time being pestered by the people there who know him.  Everyone is eager to see him dating, because for some reason all his friends and family seem to think that he should have been settled down years ago.  So they all do their best to help the date along, and usually end up making things awkward instead. 

"No. It's not really the kind of place my family and friends would frequent." Castiel's nose wrinkles and he shoots a sideways glance at Dean. "I'm not even sure my parents have ever lowered themselves to eat a burger, much less drive past a restaurant that doesn't have five stars next to the number you'd call for reservations." 

"Cas, are you saying your family is a bunch of snobs?" Dean leads him to a booth in the far corner. The place is busy enough that he's surprised there's one free. The seat backs are high and cut out a lot of the sound, leaving them in a little cocoon of privacy. 

Castiel grimaces as he settles into the seat across from Dean. "That would be an understatement." 

There are menus tucked between condiment bottles on the far end of the table, and Dean grabs one to hand over to Castiel. He has been there enough times that he's got it memorized, so he doesn't get one for himself. "So you're rich?" He asks as Castiel starts to skim over the menu. 

He takes the opportunity to just study the other man. Castiel is very good looking, but Dean has seen a lot of hot men. He's not quite sure what it is about him that has caught his attention so thoroughly. 

_It's gotta be the eyes,_ he thinks when Castiel glances up at him. Although if he were pressed, he wouldn't say why. There was no way he'll ever tell anyone that he almost shivers whenever Castiel looks at him. It’s like Castiel can see inside his soul, which sounds like something out of a bad teen romance, but it’s accurate. It should probably bother him, but Castiel seems to like what he sees, and Dean has to try not to preen under his attention. 

"No, I'm not," Castiel says. "My parents are, but they're a little upset with me for opening a bakery, so I've been cut off." 

Dean frowns. "That's unfair. You're running your own business. They should be proud of you." 

"They should," Castiel says quietly. "But they're not. At the end of the day, though, I'm still happy with my decision." 

It takes a lot of guts to stand up to your parents and tell them you're not going to live your life according to their plan. Dean knows because he has difficulty standing up to his own father on most subjects. Most specifically his career. 

Police Academy wasn't entirely Dean's idea. He had earned himself an art scholarship that he’d planned on using once he finished his two year enlistment in the army, but he caved in to the pressure his father put on him and left his dream of being a comic book artist behind. He's happy being a cop now, and doesn't regret the good he's done, but sometimes he wishes he had taken a page from Sammy's book and told John to go to hell. The closest Dean ever got to it was sending him to hell in the comic he'd been making for Sam since they were little kids. 

It occurs to him that Castiel could very well also be talking about coming out to his parents, and his mind shies away from even _considering_ having that talk with his dad.  

Uncomfortable with the serious turn of the conversation, Dean grabs a menu just to have something else to look at. He clears his throat and changes the subject. "So, uh.... do you need any recommendations?" Castiel doesn't answer right away, and Dean looks up to catch him staring again. "What?" 

"Sorry," Castiel says softly. "I didn't mean to make things so serious." He lifts his menu and stares at it with obviously false interest. 

"It's cool, Cas. It's not like we can't change the subject, right?" 

“True.” Castiel's blue eyes flash up over the top of his menu, and they crinkle up with a wicked smile. “So, Dean. What’s your safeword?” 

“Sixty-seven.” Dean goes still as soon as the word slips free of his mouth. _What the_ fuck _, brain?_  

Castiel makes a choked sound and drops his menu. “Oh my God!” Hunching forward over the table, he stares hard at Dean, his expression an odd combination of horror and imminent laughter. “Oh my _God_!” He exclaims again after he gets a closer look at Dean’s face. “I was just joking!” 

Dean’s face flames and he slouches down in his seat, but he draws the line at hiding behind his menu. He is no coward. 

When he doesn’t say anything, Castiel’s eyes widen further. “You’re serious! You’re really into that stuff?” 

Dean shrugs and reconsiders his stance on hiding. He lifts his menu a little higher. 

Castiel makes another shocked sound. Bracing his elbow on the table, he props his chin in his palm. His curled fingers hide his mouth but his delighted smile shines from his eyes. His voice is a conspiratorial whisper, slightly muffled behind his hand. “So tell me about it.” 

Dean lets out an exaggerated sigh. His secret is out now, but he isn't too upset about it, since Castiel isn’t recoiling in disgust. Dean doesn't detect anything malicious in his curious stare. To cover his embarrassment, he gives Castiel a cocky grin over the top of his menu. He lowers it, and sits forward slightly as if he's about to reveal a huge secret. 

Castiel drops his hand and leans forward too. He's close enough that Dean can feel his breath ghosting over his skin. He imagines how it would feel flowing over other parts of his body and his smile widens into something that makes Castiel’s pupils dilate and his breath hitch. 

Dean opens his mouth to speak, but pauses, letting the tension of the moment build. Castiel edges a little closer. 

“You should try the Blue Ribbon burger. It’s out of this fuckin’ world.” 

Castiel’s mouth, already slack, drops open. 

Dean winks and leans back in his seat, casually lifting his menu so he can pretend he is more interested in his dinner options than Castiel's reaction. 

“Motherfucker,” Castiel breathes. He glares reproachfully at Dean as he flops back in his seat and picks up his menu. “You are a bad person, Dean.” 

Dean smirks. “Maybe you’ll have to spank me.” He keeps his eyes glued on the laminated menu in his hands, but he doesn’t miss the way Castiel's head snaps up. Dean sneaks a peek, pleased to see shock and arousal on the other man’s face. “You know my safe word now. So….” He lets the thought trail off and punctuates it with another wink. 

That breaks Castiel out of his shock and he laughs, loudly and with obvious delight. His nose wrinkles, and he shakes his head at Dean with false sternness. “Are you always this incorrigible?” 

Dean shrugs, pleased with Castiel's reaction more than he can say. “Just giving you a taste of your own medicine.” 

"What?" Castiel splutters. "How so?" 

"Dude, you gave me a free piece of pie." Dean points at him across the table. "You might as well have just asked me to drop my pants, right then and there." 

"If that's all it takes to get you out of your clothes, what would a whole pie get me?" 

"Depends on the flavor of pie." 

They both dissolve into laughter, and damn but it feels good. Now that Dean has relaxed and is no longer letting the fact that he's on a date with a man bother him, he's having more fun than he has with anyone in a really long time. 

The waitress comes and takes their orders, and Dean is pleased to see that Castiel takes his suggestion. When she leaves, Dean finds himself searching for things to talk about. He taps his fingers on the table and watches Castiel as he rips the paper off his straw and rolls it up into a tiny ball between his palms. 

Dean really likes Castiel’s hands. The fingers are thin and graceful, and he would be willing to bet dinner that they’re strong. His eye catches on the bruised knuckles of Castiel's left hand and he frowns. He makes a mental note to do a few more drives through the neighborhood to keep the thieves on their toes. If they see a cop cruiser on the street, maybe they'll go find different hunting grounds. 

"So other than dinner, did you have anything else planned?" 

Pulled out of his dark thoughts, Dean shrugs. "I don't exactly know what protocol is here." 

Castiel rolls his eyes. "You're really over thinking this." 

"Well what do you want to do?" Dean leans back in his seat, taking his soda with him so he can sip at it while they wait for their burgers. 

Castiel looks at him thoughtfully for a moment before he gets a glint in his eyes that Dean isn't sure he trusts. He leans out of the booth and waves down their waitress. He gives her a wide eyed imploring look. "Miss, do you think I could have a page from your notepad and borrow a pen?" 

The waitress instantly gives him what he asked for, which doesn't surprise Dean since Castiel's puppy dog eyes could rival Sam's. Castiel thanks her with a smile that has Dean's insides doing a weird melty thing, and the smile isn't even directed at him. 

"Okay," Castiel says as he turns his attention back to Dean. His body moves with an excited energy that Dean can almost feel from across the table. "Give me some of the schmoopiest date ideas you can think of." 

Dean lifts an eyebrow. "What the hell does 'schmoopy' mean?" 

"Diabetes inducing and disgustingly romantic," Castiel answers with a grin. "The more cliché, the better." 

Dean knows this is going to be entertaining. He sits forward eagerly so he can look down at the list as Castiel writes.  "Alright... how about ice cream at the park while watching the sun set?" 

Castiel chews his bottom lip as he writes it down. "Oh yeah, that's a good one." He thinks for a moment, tapping the capped end of the pen against his bottom lip, then starts writing again. "State Fair. Riding the ferris wheel and getting stuck at the top." 

"Nice," Dean laughs. "Does it have to be something we can do in Kansas, or can I make up anything?" 

"Anything." 

"Picnic at the beach on a cloudy day." 

Castiel quirks an eyebrow at him. "Wouldn't a sunny day be better?" 

"Nah, it's gotta be the kind of day that it might rain. That way if it does rain we can run back to the car together while hiding under the blanket we brought for the picnic." Dean can’t believe that he’s saying these things out loud. 

"Wow." Castiel is grinning madly as he scribbles down the details. "That is really sappy, Dean." 

"Hey, you said 'disgustingly romantic'," Dean points out. "That shit's straight out of a chick flick." 

Castiel laughs and nods his agreement just as their burgers are brought to the table. He sets the list aside for the moment and stares hungrily at his plate. "This looks great." 

Dean waits for him to bite into it and is pleased with Castiel's happy groan. "Did I do good?" 

"Very good," Castiel says through a mouthful of meat and cheese and bread. He looks completely blissed out. "This... makes me very happy." 

Knowing that Castiel is enjoying himself, even if only because of a well-made burger, makes Dean flush with pleasure. He settles down to eat his own burger, and they're quiet for a few minutes while they enjoy their food. 

Halfway through his burger, Castiel sets it down and picks up the pen again. "A ferry ride," he says. "If it's cold, we'll have to huddle together for warmth." 

Dean is all for huddling together. But he has ideas of his own to add to the list. "Eating mochi ice cream from a street vendor cart on a hot summer day.” He’s never told anyone he even knows what mochi is, but making this list has him admitting to things he wouldn’t have shared with anyone before. 

"If it's too hot, the ice cream will melt and get all over," Castiel points out. Then he smiles slyly. "We forgot to get napkins and have to lick each other’s fingers clean." 

Dean closes his eyes and a small whine escapes his throat. "Cas..." 

"Right, that's less chick flick and more softcore porn setup." 

Dean can't help himself. "Only softcore?" 

Castiel laughs and kicks him under the table. "For someone who has never been with a man before, you are awfully dirty minded." 

Uncertainty tempers Dean's amusement and he sets his burger down. He stares down at his plate because he can't meet Castiel's eyes. Suddenly his meal is sitting heavily in his stomach. "Is that bad? Am I doing this wrong?" 

"Hey." Castiel reaches across the table and lays his uninjured hand over Dean's where it's sitting next to his plate. "I'm just teasing you." 

Dean looks up and searches Castiel's eyes for any sign of discomfort or insincerity and finds none.  He lets out a sigh and relaxes. He twists his hand on the table so that he can grab Castiel's fingers in his own. "You should add stargazing to the list." 

Castiel's lips spread in a warm smile and he squeezes Dean's hand before taking his own back and leaning over his scrap of paper to scribble down the suggestion. He takes the change of subject in stride. "I like it. What about going to a roller skating rink?" 

Now that the tension is gone, they are able to spend the rest of their dinner jokingly coming up with different things to add to the list while they eat. It gets so long that Castiel eventually begs another piece of paper from the waitress when she brings them their dessert. 

They get into a good natured argument over the quality of the pie, with Castiel insisting that the crust is overdone, and Dean countering that it doesn't matter as long as it isn't burnt because pie is pie. Castiel is so offended that he threatens to make Dean eat some of his pie every day so he will learn just how wrong he is. 

Despite the fact that he’s only tried one flavor of pie offered at Heavenly Delights, Dean agrees that Castiel probably does make better pie. But with a threat like that hanging over his head, there is no way he's going to admit it. He’s not going to screw himself out of free pie. 

When they finally finish up and are walking out of the diner to Dean's car, it's gotten late. Dean doesn't have to work the next day, but he forgot to ask Castiel what his schedule was like. 

"I don't need to get you home before midnight do I?" He asks as he unlocks the passenger door for Castiel. "I don't want you turning into a pumpkin." 

"When my brother found out I had a date tonight he insisted on opening the shop for me tomorrow." Castiel opens the door, but doesn't get in the car yet. He reaches out and runs his fingers along the edge of Dean's jacket collar. "Did you want to do something else?" 

Dean finds himself moving a little closer. It's cold out but he can feel Castiel's body heat, and it's nice. "We could do something from the list.” 

“There’s not much on there we can do right now,” Castiel points out. His voice has lowered, and Dean leans forward to hear him better. “Unless you were thinking about going stargazing?” 

“Are you up for it?” 

Castiel cants his head to the side and traces Dean’s features with his eyes. “Yeah,” he says after a moment.  “Let’s go.” 

For a split second Dean thinks about leaning in for a kiss, but before the thought fully forms Castiel is pulling away and getting into the car. Dean sucks in a deep breath and looks up at the sky. It’s clear, but they’re still in the city so there aren’t many stars to see. 

That's easy enough to remedy. He grins over the idea of going on a drive. He knows the perfect place, but it'll take a little time to get out there. 

Once he's settled behind the wheel, and they're on the road, he decides to flip on the radio. "Tell me you like Zeppelin, Cas," he says as he adjusts the volume. 

Next to him, Castiel shrugs. "Yeah, they're pretty good." 

Dean casts him a quick glance. "Just pretty good? Dude, Zeppelin is the best thing to ever happen to music." 

Castiel grins, but doesn't look at him. "So you're one of those, huh?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Let me guess." Castiel's amusement is clear in his words. "You're also a fan of Metallica, and Motorhead, and there's nothing in your music collection that came out after the eighties." 

Dean opens his mouth to deny it, but then he pauses and thinks about the box of tapes tucked under Castiel's seat, and realizes that he's right. So he closes his mouth and shrugs one shoulder. When Castiel laughs at him, he starts to feel a little defensive. "Oh and I suppose you're into that hipster indie shit, right?" 

"I like a little bit of everything," Castiel answers. He slides a hand across the seat, but doesn't quite touch Dean, as if he isn't sure yet if he's allowed. "If I had to choose a favorite genre, I wouldn't be able to give you a definite answer. Right now, I've got an album by Nero playing on repeat in the mornings while I'm baking. It drives poor Alfie crazy. He's not a fan of dubstep." 

"What the hell is dubstep?" Dean asks as he takes a turn off the freeway. 

"It's a type of techno music." 

_Uh oh._ "Man, Cas, I don't know if we can be friends now." 

He's teasing of course. He really doesn't care what Castiel listens to as long as he appreciates the classics and doesn’t bitch at Dean for listening to the same tapes constantly. 

Castiel finally reaches across the rest of the space between them and runs his fingers over Dean's thigh. "Well I'll be honest, Dean. I don't really want to be your friend." 

Dean turns to look at Castiel, and it's only because of years of experience driving a police cruiser with a laptop that he's able to keep the car on the road even though his eyes aren't there to guide him. He could easily make a joke right now and lighten the suddenly heavy conversation, but he's doing this whole self-honesty thing and along with accepting the fact that he wants to get down Castiel's pants, he's also accepted that he doesn't just want a fling. 

He likes Castiel. Up until now they've only interacted at the bakery, but Dean can admit to himself that he was only showing up as often as he did because seeing Castiel's welcoming smile and chatting with him for a few minutes every few days was the highlight of his week. 

He turns his attention back to the road, and swallows nervously. His voice is low and rough when he speaks because he's forcing the words past a tight throat. "Me too, Cas." 

He sneaks a quick glance at Castiel and finds him smiling happily. And something about making Castiel smile like that makes something warm blossom inside Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know that whole "write drunk, edit sober" thing? pssshhh.... i wrote this while sober, and i am currently fuckered up beyond belief. editing drunk is much more fun :D
> 
> expect several more chapters of cotton candy levels of sweet fluff!


	10. Chapter 10

When they reach their destination Castiel looks around the open field with curious eyes. "It's a good thing you're a cop," he teases as they get out of the car. "Otherwise I might be worried about you bringing me out to a field in the middle of nowhere." 

Dean's low laugh is really sexy, and Castiel's body instantly responds to the sound, swaying towards him, even as his skin tightens with anticipation. "Yeah, okay, I don't want to freak you out, Cas, but not all cops are trustworthy." He walks around to the front of the car and heaves himself up onto the hood. He pats the space next to him in invitation for Castiel to join him. 

"Is that a warning?" Castiel asks even as he climbs up onto the car next to Dean. Once he's seated, he shoves his hands in his coat pockets for warmth. He's grateful for the heat coming from the engine still ticking beneath him because it is cold enough out that he can see his breath clouding in front of him. 

"Just don't ever cross Benny," Dean answers with a grin. He notices that Castiel is shivering and beckons him closer. "Come over here." 

He doesn't have to ask twice. Scooting close enough to press into Dean's side, Castiel suddenly appreciates the cold for giving him a reason to. Dean's strong arm wraps around his back and pulls him even closer, and Castiel is sure nothing could feel better. 

Well nothing of a non-sexual nature, that is. 

Dean is looking up at the sky, and he gestures with his free hand for Castiel to look up as well. "Do you know any constellations?" 

"Just the basics," Castiel answers. He frees one hand and points out the ones he knows. "Big Dipper... Pleiades... Orion... ." When he's done, he quickly tucks his hand back in his pocket for warmth. 

"Taurus is up there." Dean points out a cluster of stars and traces their shape so Castiel can see them easier. "Gemini is over there. That’s Cassiopeia. That's all I've got." 

Castiel laughs and leans more into Dean's side. "Next time we go stargazing we should bring a book." 

"We can make up our own," Dean counters with a shrug. He reaches up with his free hand to point at a cluster of stars. "Look it's the Chevrolet logo." 

Castiel squints to try and see what Dean sees. "No it isn't." 

"Yeah, man, it totally is. And that's-" his hand shifts to another random grouping, "the symbol from the Blue Oyster Cult album Career of Evil." 

Two can play at this game. Castiel doesn't even try to find a group of stars that look like they might make a shape. He just points at an area of the sky to the North. "That looks like a birthday cake." 

Dean let's out a snort, and it's obvious he knows exactly what Castiel is doing, but he plays along. 

"Yeah, Cas. I can totally see it." 

They spend the next half hour pointing out fake constellations that get more and more ridiculous as they go. The open field echoes with their laughter, and Castiel knows he hasn't had this much fun in... probably years. 

He's more busy watching Dean's mischievous expressions than he is watching the stars when he comes to this realization. It hits him suddenly that it will take very little for him to fall in love with this man. 

Dean is sweet, and funny, and surprisingly comfortable to be around. Castiel had been worried that Dean would be stiff and nervous because this was his first experience dating a man. There had been a few moments early on when Dean seemed to freeze up, but he accepted Castiel's assurances and is now completely relaxed. 

There is a small corner of Castiel's mind that is still worried Dean might freak out over what he's doing, but Castiel will deal with that if and when it comes. For right now he is happy, and he is going to soak in as much of Dean's company as he can. 

A buzz coming from his pocket startles him and he jerks slightly. Dean stops in the middle of telling an epic story about the cowboy in the sky and turns a guilty look to Castiel. "Is someone calling to check on you for being out so late?" 

"I don't think so." Castiel only told Gabriel about his date, and he knows his brother won’t worry about him until the next day. He pulls out his phone and frowns when he sees Michael's name on the display. He swipes across the screen to ignore it, then powers it off before he puts it back in his pocket.  “It’s nothing important.” 

Michael's calls are always random, and Castiel never knows when to expect them. It would figure that he calls when Castiel is out with Dean. It's not the first time Michael's timing has been so inconvenient, but it is the first time Castiel can remember ever ignoring his call. 

Wow, he's got it for Dean so bad. 

When he looks back up at Dean and their eyes meet, time seems to stop. It’s just as cliché as the date they’re on, but there you have it. Dean’s eyes look black in the starlight, but Castiel has memorized their beautiful gold flecked shade of green and his imagination fills in the dark spaces for him. 

Dean is staring at him like he’s surprised, and a little bit intimidated. 

“What is it Dean?” 

It’s difficult to tell in the dark, but Castiel would bet every donut in his shop that Dean blushes.  He drops his eyes and shrugs. His voice is quiet, and touched with awe. “I’m just having a really good time.” 

When Castiel pulled out his phone, Dean dropped his arm to brace it on the now cold metal of the Impala’s hood and Castiel wishes he would put it back around him. He leans into Dean’s shoulder, hoping he’ll get the hint. His voice is low, since they’re sitting close enough that the steam of their breath mingles. “I am too.” 

That brings Dean’s head back up and he searches Castiel for something for a long moment. A tentative smile pulls up the edges of his lips. “Yeah?” 

When Castiel first started dating, Gabriel had sat him down and gave him some advice. Some of it was good and Castiel took it to heart. Specifically the rule about always having his own condoms and lube because he can’t trust other men to be responsible. But most of it was trite crap. _Be a bit of a jerk. Bad Boys are sexy._ Or Castiel’s least favorite, _play hard to get_. He doesn’t even know how that is supposed to work. 

Especially right now when the only thing he wants in the world is to learn what Dean’s lips feel like under his own. Maybe the timing isn’t right, but Castiel can’t wait any longer to find out. 

He leans forward and presses his mouth against Dean’s smile. The other man inhales sharply, and for a heartbeat Castiel is sure he’s screwed everything up. Dean is going to pull away and wipe his mouth clean. He’ll get off the car and tell Castiel that it’s probably time to get home, and- 

Dean surges against Castiel and deepens the kiss. His mouth opens and his tongue flicks against Castiel’s lips, silently begging entrance. Castiel opens to him and the taste of Dean fills his senses.  His lips are as soft as they look, and his tongue is a hot brand against his own. Castiel barely hears the quiet whine Dean makes in the back of his throat when Castiel nips at his bottom lip because his heartbeat is thundering loudly in his own head. 

Strong hands are gripping his arms, pulling him closer, and Castiel wraps them around Dean’s waist. His fingers curl into the leather of Dean’s jacket so he can pull him even closer. 

The kiss ends when Dean pulls back slightly. They stare at each other, still close enough to breathe each other’s air. Dean’s eyes are wide, and there is definitely shock in his expression, but Castiel is relieved to see that there isn’t any disgust or anger. At least not yet. 

Castiel sucks in a deep breath and loosens his grip on Dean in preparation to move away. “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean-” 

Dean’s fingers tighten around Castiel’s upper arms, holding him in place. “Why are you apologizing?” 

Confusion makes Castiel tilt his head. He wishes the moon were out so he could see Dean’s expression more clearly. “I didn’t ask if I could kiss you. I shouldn’t have taken the liberty-” 

“You have permission to kiss me,” Dean said quickly. “In fact, I’d kind of like to do it again.” 

Castiel’s eyes widen, and his heartbeat doubles its pace again. “Now?” 

“Hell yeah, now.” Dean rolls his eyes, but he looks amused. “What, do you want to set up an appointment or someth-” 

He makes a little _oomf_ of surprise when Castiel cuts him off with another kiss. 

It doesn’t take Castiel long at all to learn that Dean is a really good kisser. He goes back and forth between hot, wet open mouthed kisses that are so filthy that Castiel is afraid his dick is going to punch a hole through his zipper in a bid for freedom, and gentle kisses that are just soft brushes of contact between their lips which leave Castiel melting into Dean’s chest and nearly ready to beg for more. 

Castiel is a little bit of a biter, and Dean makes the most delicious sounds when his lips are caught between Castiel’s teeth. When Castiel’s hands make their way up around the back of Dean’s neck and tug at the short hairs there he makes a small keening sound and arches into Castiel’s touch. 

He imagines all the things he can do to Dean to encourage more whines and whimpers and a shudder chases through him. 

To his disappointment, that catches Dean’s attention and he pulls away. He doesn’t go far though, and he doesn’t release his grip on Castiel. He rests their foreheads together, and sucks in a few breaths before he huffs out a giddy sounding laugh. “Damn, Cas, I would love to sit here all night and make out like kids. But it’s really fucking cold out here.” 

The heat of Dean’s mouth had distracted Castiel from the temperature, but now that it has been pointed out to him, he shivers again and this time it isn’t because of lust. The Impala’s engine went cold a while ago, and now he can feel the chill seeping into him from the hood’s metal. The coat he’s wearing isn’t nearly as warm as his trench coat had been, and if he weren’t pressed against Dean’s warmth, he’s sure that he wouldn’t be able to feel some of his extremities anymore. 

Sighing, Castiel loosens his hold and straightens. Dean’s hands, which had moved from his arms to slip inside his jacket and around his waist, flex as if he doesn’t want Castiel to pull away. The small movement makes Castiel smile because it’s nice to know he’s not the only one that wants to cling. “You’re right. As much as I hate to admit it, you should probably take me home.” 

Disappointment shadows Dean’s features, but he nods.  “Yeah, it’s getting pretty late.” 

Despite their agreement, it takes them a few more moments of searching each other’s faces before they start to disentangle themselves. Dean slides off the Impala’s hood, and holds a hand out to help Castiel down. It’s completely unnecessary, but Castiel accepts anyway because it’s such a sweet gesture, and it gives him an opportunity to touch Dean again. 

And the fucker actually walks with him to open the passenger door. Castiel doesn’t think anyone has ever done anything like that for him. Actually, come to think of it, he’s never done something like that. _Damn,_ he thinks as he slides into the seat and Dean closes the door _, I need to step up my game._  

When Dean takes his place behind the wheel and flashes Castiel a bright smile before turning the key in the ignition Castiel knows he is already ruined for all other men. He may not be in love yet, but the bar has definitely been raised for his expectations. 

And it’s only the first date. Shit. 

They’re quiet for most of the drive home, other than a few murmured comments on Dean’s music choices. The closer they get to Castiel’s apartment, the more warmth fades from his chest. When they pull up in front of his building, he looks at the stairs that lead up to his home and he sighs. 

He really wishes time would stop for another five hours so he can spend them with Dean. 

“Want me to walk you up?” Dean looks as reluctant to end the date as Castiel does. 

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Castiel murmurs as he reaches for the door handle. 

They walk up the stairs side by side, and Castiel smiles when he hears Dean’s breath start to hitch from the exertion. At the door, Dean waits at his side as he digs out his keys and unlocks it.  Castiel opens the door a little, but turns to Dean to say goodnight. 

He’s hoping for another kiss. 

Dean is looking at him sheepishly, and he looks like a teenage boy, too nervous to close the space between them. It’s endearing, especially since Dean has admitted that he feels a lot more comfortable with these kinds of things when going out with a woman. If Castiel were female, would Dean have already reached out to him? 

The point is moot since Castiel is a man. And since he’s far more experienced, he’s going to make things easy on Dean. He steps closer and tilts his face up to brush his lips against Dean’s. It’s nothing like the kisses they shared earlier. It’s chaste, and far too brief, but Castiel doesn’t want Dean to feel pressured into anything. 

When Castiel pulls back from the kiss, Dean looks a little dazed. He blinks down at Castiel for a moment before he clears his throat and backs away a little. “I uh… should probably…” 

Dean’s eyes drop down to Castiel’s lips, and that’s what makes him decide that neither of them is ready for the night to be over. “Dean, do you want to come inside?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty excited for the next chapter.... I guess I'd better get working on it, huh? lol


	11. Chapter 11

The invitation is delivered in a low murmur that sends a thrill racing down Dean's spine. The blood that has been pumping around in Dean's brain and letting him think rationally just got there, having first taken a trip south during the make out session in the field before traveling slowly back upstairs on the drive to Castiel's apartment. But now it drops right back down, and Dean's higher functions are definitely affected by the loss. 

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice cracks a little, but Castiel doesn't seem to notice, thank God. Dean hasn't felt this unsure of himself since his first date back when he was sixteen. 

Castiel links his fingers with Dean’s and leads him inside. “Do you want some coffee, or I think I have some 7-Up if you don’t want caffeine this late?” 

“Coffee’s good,” Dean says softly. It's probably not a good idea considering how late it is, but brewing coffee will take some time, and that's a few more minutes that Dean gets to be here with Castiel. 

Damn, he's crushing so hard that he half expects to reach up and find zits all over his face, because seriously he feels like a teenager. 

Castiel's eyes are bright blue in the soft light of the lamp he flicks on, and he's staring at Dean instead of going into the kitchen. “Alright.” 

“Okay.” _Smooth, Winchester_. He used to think he was good at this. 

It's Castiel who finally breaks the staring contest when he blinks and gestures towards the couch. "Make yourself comfortable and I'll get the coffee started." 

Dean nods and shrugs out of his jacket. There are hooks near the door, and he hangs it up before going to sit down. He can hear Cas puttering around in the kitchen and it's at once a little bit domestic and intimidating. 

_What the hell am I doing here?_  

He has an idea of what he wants, and it involves a lot more kissing. But Castiel might want more than that. Hell, Dean wants more than that, and that's the root of his sudden anxiety. 

He wants Castiel. Bad. But this is all new territory, and Dean isn't sure he's ready for it. 

He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he jumps when Castiel settles down next to him on the couch. "Jesus, Cas," he snaps, "We need to get you a bell or something." 

Castiel only tilts his head. "I was talking to you. I said the coffee will take a few minutes." 

Dean flushes, half from guilt over getting snappy, and half from embarrassment about being so deep in his thoughts he didn't hear what Castiel was saying. "Oh, sorry." 

"Dean, are you alright?" Castiel reaches out to touch him but pulls back before making contact. 

He doesn’t like it that he’s made Castiel too nervous to touch him. His hand shoots out and grab's Castiel's. He laces their fingers together, and stares down at them.  Castiel’s are long and slender next to Dean’s thicker, more callused fingers.  He likes the contrast. "Sorry, Cas. It's just... this feels weird to me." He squeezes Castiel's hand gently. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, so I'm just winging it, but I..." 

"We're just sitting together on the couch," Castiel points out. And damn him for being reasonable right now. 

"And holding hands," Dean counters. Yeah, he knows he started it. He just doesn't know what to do with that knowledge. He huffs a laugh. "I think I might be having a little bit of an identity crisis. I'm not gay, Cas. But..." He trails off with a shrug. 

There's that head tilt again. Castiel is really giving Sammy a run for his money on the puppy dog looks. "Dean, do you enjoy my company?" 

That’s a stupid question. Dean can't remember the last time he had so much fun just goofing off with a date. "Yeah, Cas." 

"Have we done anything tonight that made you uncomfortable?" 

"No!" Dean shifts closer on the couch. He knows Castiel is probably referring to the kissing, and he can't let Cas think that he didn't enjoy it. "No, Cas. We haven't done anything I didn't like." 

"You liked kissing me?" 

"Hell yeah." 

"Do you want to do it again?" 

"Absolutely." There is no doubt of that in Dean's mind. Kissing Castiel was totally different than kissing a woman. Beard stubble stung the edges of his lips, and the body pressed against his own was large and hard with muscle instead of small and soft like a woman's. But Dean couldn't deny that he liked it. A whole helluva lot. 

Castiel watches him consideringly for a moment before he asks his next question. "Do you think you would want to do more than kissing at some point?" 

And there is the kicker. Dean does want to go further. He sighs and looks away, reaching up with one hand to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah, Cas, I do." He glances back at Castiel, but looks away quickly again. "I guess that makes me gay, huh?" 

To his surprise, Castiel laughs at him. "No, Dean, that's not what it means at all." 

Dean's eyes snap back to Castiel's. "What else could it mean?" 

Castiel looks down at their clasped hands. He pulls Dean a little closer and starts playing with his fingers. The soft strokes go a long way to drain some of the tension out of Dean’s shoulders. "Just because you're attracted to me, that doesn't make you gay. There are other terms that allow for you to still be attracted to women." 

Dean has never believed in bisexuality. He's always believed it was a term people used when they were afraid to come fully out of the closet, or they were a bubbly college girl who wanted to impress the jocks. 

He can admit to himself that he's appreciated the male form plenty of times, even though he's never actually wanted to pursue anyone before meeting Castiel.  But he's not really sure if he's comfortable with using the term for himself. 

Thinking about it right now is giving him a headache, and he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. He needs to change the subject, or he's going to ruin the whole evening with his existential crisis  He plasters on his patented panty-dropping grin.  "Maybe I'm just Cas-sexual." 

Castiel scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he looks amused when he meets Dean's gaze again. "You're an idiot." 

Without even thinking, Dean tugs at Castiel's hand to pull him closer. "But I'm your idiot." 

They both freeze at those words. Dean's brain is screaming at him to make a joke, to take it back, to retreat, _retreat, abandon ship!_ But he says nothing because, well… he _means_ it. 

And Castiel's expression says he knows Dean means it. 

The next moment is like something out of a movie. Castiel is staring at Dean, and Dean can't look away. There's very little space between them, and all it would take is for either one of them to lean forward- 

He isn't sure which one of them moves first, but one minute there's space between them, and in the next, Dean's back is pressed against the arm of the couch and Castiel is plastered to his front, and _hello, yes_ Dean is totally on board with this. 

Dean's arms slip around Castiel's waist to pull him closer, although it's hardly possible. Or at least that's what he thinks until Castiel straddles one his thighs, and Dean can feel the brush of something hard against his leg. Dean groans and deepens the kiss, his hands pulling at the back of Castiel's shirt in a silent request for more. 

Any worry that feeling a guy's hard on might be weird jumps out the nearest window, because _wow_. Dean rolls his hips into it and smiles into Castiel's mouth when the shorter man lets out a low growl of approval. 

Castiel likes to use his teeth, and Dean knows his lips are going to be swollen from the abuse, but fuck if he cares. Each nip of Castiel's teeth ratchets Dean's arousal a little higher, makes his body wind a little bit tighter. And all this kissing and dry humping is really fantastic, really, but Dean is sure his head is going to explode if it doesn't stop right now or start progressing to second base. 

His brain is undecided, but his dick is definitely voting for Option Two. 

As if reading his mind, Castiel breaks the kiss (Dean _does not_ whimper at the loss) and cups both hands around Dean's jaw, holding him in place. They're still close enough that their noses brush and Castiel is nuzzling him lightly. He's staring into Dean, filling his vision with blue, blue, blue, and oh Jesus, Dean really wants to kiss him again. 

But Castiel is speaking. "Dean, I am three seconds from having my way with you. I need to know if you're okay with this." 

His body is screaming _I’m ready! I’m really ready!,_ but Dean doesn't even know what to do with Castiel if they go any further than making out. He's got a vague idea, but everything he knows comes from a few gay pornos he's seen and he knows for a fact that if he tries to pull off any of those moves he's going to screw it up and look like a moron. 

Dean let's out a sigh and drops his head back on his shoulders. His fingers, which had slid down to grip Castiel's ass in order to facilitate grinding into him, loosen and he moves them to the safety of Castiel's hips instead. But he can’t keep his fingers from squeezing, and prompting Castiel to grind into his thigh one more time. 

“Cas,” he manages to choke out. “I don’t want to stop. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing here.” 

He leans up and presses a kiss against Castiel’s jaw, and the scratch of stubble against his lips sends a punch of lust through his belly. “I want you,” he murmurs. “Show me what to do.” 

The way Castiel stares at him makes him want to squirm even though the look is nowhere near sexual. It’s like Castiel is trying to sense the truth of his words by looking inside him. 

Dean hopes he likes what he sees. 

After a moment, Castiel’s expression shifts into something a little more predatory. His hand comes up and he runs his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip which feels a little bruised already.  Castiel almost looks proud of the results of his work, which is yeah, super hot. “Alright, I’ll show you. But you have to promise to stop me if I make you uncomfortable.” 

When Dean nods his agreement, Castiel carefully pushes himself to his feet and holds out a hand. Dean takes it and lets Castiel haul him to his feet. Their fingers lace together again, and Castiel leads him to his bedroom. 

When Castiel flips on the light, Dean can see that it hasn’t changed much since the night before, and something about that makes him smile. Just last night, Castiel had fallen asleep in that bed while Dean sat out in the living room and sketched for hours trying to perfect Castiel’s wings. It seems like so long ago, even though it was less than twenty-four hours. 

Castiel stops and toes off his shoes, kicking them under the bed. He drops Dean’s hand and reaches up to work open the top few buttons of his shirt. He stops when it’s open just enough to reveal the dusting of dark hair under his collarbone. Then he steps up close and presses his full body against Dean’s. 

Dean’s breath shudders out of him. “Cas…” 

“I’m going to undress you,” Castiel murmurs against his lips. “Good?” 

“G-good.” Dean swallows and nods a little to make sure Castiel got the message since apparently the signal between his brain and his mouth is experiencing interference. 

Castiel takes his time unbuttoning Dean’s shirt. He steps back a little when he pushes it off Dean’s shoulders, and his lips quirk up in an approving smile. Dean fidgets under his gaze as he looks his fill, but doesn’t otherwise move. Something in his brain has switched off, and he’s unable to do anything except what Castiel tells him to. He sucks in a breath when Castiel reaches for his belt buckle, but nods for him to continue when he glances up in concern. 

Dean’s jeans slip down and pool around his ankles along with his shirt, and Castiel nudges at him until he sits down on the edge of the bed before going down on his knees. Dean’s dick jumps excitedly at the sight, and Castiel notices. 

He runs a hand up Dean’s thigh and tweaks the hem of his black and grey plaid boxers. “I prefer boxers myself,” he murmurs, then waggles his eyebrows. “I like my freedom.” 

Dean had gone still under that light touch, but he can’t help but laugh at Castiel’s words. “When do I get to see them?” 

Instead of answering, Castiel bows his head and reaches for Dean’s shoes which he removes along with his socks before gently freeing him from his jeans. Then he stands and nudges Dean’s shoulder. “Move back to lean against the headboard.” 

Once again, Dean can’t do anything but obey. He scoots back until his hips are propped against some pillows and his shoulders hit the headboard. His eyes are glued to Castiel who is still standing at the foot of the bed. But he’s moving, removing his shirt and tossing it to the side before reaching for the fly of his slacks. Dean’s mouth goes dry at the sight of tanned skin stretched over rippling muscles. 

Even with his bandaged arm marring the image, Castiel is really fucking hot. And when he drops his pants- 

A laugh bubbles up in Dean’s throat. “Dude, are those bumble bees?” 

“I like bees,” Castiel as he kick his pants off to the side. He crawls onto the edge of the bed and kneels between Dean’s feet. “And some of your favorite desserts include honey in the recipes, so you’d better not badmouth my underwear.” 

“Or what?” Dean challenges with a grin. “You’ll stop giving me free donuts?” 

“Maybe no pie.” 

Dean groans. “That’s cruel, Cas.” 

So is the slow pace that Castiel is taking with this whole getting to third base business. Dean’s hard-on is tenting his boxers, and all it would take is a shimmy of his hips for the head of it to slip out of the opening in the front. He’s tempted to, just to see what Castiel will do. The impulse surprises him because he’s no longer nervous like he was before. Now he just wants all of that naked Castiel to come get up in his personal space. “Why are you way over there, Cas? I thought you were going to teach me things?” 

“I am,” Castiel murmurs. He palms his own dick through his boxers and gently strokes himself through the silk. 

Dean has a feeling he’ll never be able to hear a bee buzzing around without getting a little turned on ever again. He glares at the other man, but there’s no real heat in it. “Well? Let’s do this.” 

“I’m going to do this,” Castiel says calmly just as he continues to rub himself through his boxers. “You’re going to watch, and listen.” 

Dean blinks as the words sink in. “What?” 

Castiel actually holds a finger up to his lips. “Shhh… pay attention.” 

“Castiel, I know how jerking off works.” 

“That’s not what this is about, Dean. I’m going to show you how things work for me.” 

Oh. _Oh_. “Oh. Well alright, then.” 

Castiel watches him and Dean can only meet his eyes for a moment before he feels a blush burn through his cheeks. He drops his eyes to Castiel’s hand, self conscious despite the fact that he’s mutually masturbated with women before. There’s something different about just watching and not participating. But Castiel hasn’t told him whether this is just a show, or if participation is allowed. 

Castiel is obviously hard now, his dick straining at the cloth of his boxers. He’s running his fingers lightly over it. “I suppose the first thing I should tell you is that I’m a little bit of an exhibitionist.” 

Dean huffs and rolls his eyes, but his gaze immediately goes back to what Castiel is doing. He doesn’t want to miss anything. “No kidding.” 

Long slender fingers dip into the opening in the silk, and Dean catches sight of pink skin. It contrasts with Castiel’s tan fingers, and Dean’s mouth goes dry at the sight. He can’t tear his eyes away as Castiel tugs the cloth open and down until the head of his dick is free. 

“I’m very sensitive here,” Castiel murmurs as he pets the head of his dick with one finger right below the slit. “You could kiss it, or lick it, and it’ll drive me crazy.” 

Dean is sure he’s already going a little crazy. He’s so hard just from this little bit of Castiel’s lesson that he’s sure if he doesn’t get some friction soon, he’s going to suffer permanent damage. He bites his bottom lip when Castiel’s dick jumps under his own touch. 

“I also like having just the head sucked,” Castiel goes on after a moment. “Deep throating is nice, but if all you do is jack me off while you suck on the head, I’ll come in no time.” 

“What if-” Dean clears his throat when his voice breaks a little, and tries again. “What if I don’t want you to get off too fast?” 

Castiel is quiet, and Dean looks up to find him smiling approvingly. “What?” he asks a little defensively. 

“You’re taking this all rather well,” Castiel answers. He’s gone back to stroking his full length, just running his palm up and down the shaft.  “You’re not uncomfortable are you?” 

Dean can’t help the smirk that pulls at his lips. “Maybe I’m a voyeur.” 

“That’s going to work out well for both of us.” 

Dean throws his head back and laughs. When he looks back at Castiel, the other man is grinning at him. “Shut up and tell me what to do next,” he demands. 

“Do you mind if I take these off?” Castiel plucks at the bee covered silk. 

Dean’s humor instantly melts, replaced by a burning desire to see Castiel naked. “Go for it.” 

Castiel responds by shifting until he can push the boxers down over his hips. He wiggles free of them, and lets them hang from one of his ankles, and damn if that isn’t hot as sin. Instead of kneeling he crawls up the bed and straddles Dean’s thighs, giving him an up close view. “What do you think?” 

Dean’s eyes are glued to Castiel’s dick. He’s cut, the head slightly darker than the rest of his skin where it’s swollen with blood. It curves a little to the right, but otherwise stands proud from a nest of nearly black hair. It’s not as thick as Dean’s own, but it is a little longer. 

He should feel weird about this. He doesn’t though. Any thoughts about his inexperience, or his suddenly nebulous sexuality have burned away under the heat of his lust. 

Dean licks his lips, and flicks his gaze up to meet Castiel’s again. His voice is gruff when he teases, “Is this the part where I ask if you’ve been in porn?” 

Castiel snorts and rolls his eyes. “Do you watch a lot of porn, Dean?” 

“I’m over twenty-one, and I have my own credit card. Of course, I watch porn.” He’s even seen a little bit of gay porn. At the time, he thought he was just curious. It had been weird to watch two guys go at it, because he had felt something and it freaked him out a little when he’d started to get hard. 

That hadn’t stopped him from watching the whole video though. 

“If you’re paying for it, you’re doing it wrong,” Castiel says dryly. “Let me know if you want some links for the free stuff.” 

Dean’s pretty sure nothing on a porn site could be as hot as what’s happening right now, but he doesn’t say so. Instead his eyes follow the path of Castiel’s hand as he licks his palm several times to get it slick before wrapping his hand around his dick again. 

“Join me if you want.” Castiel’s voice has dropped an octave and if possible is even rougher than usual. 

Dean sucks in a breath. Watching is one thing, but jacking off together… “Maybe in a few minutes.” 

Castiel only nods and continues to stroke himself. Dean’s sorely tempted to reach out and help him, but he’s frozen, eyes glued to Castiel’s hand. At first the strokes are simple; up, down, slowly repeat. But then he starts twisting his wrist at the top, squeezing tightly, and Dean finds his own breath hitching when Castiel’s does on every upstroke. 

“Dean…” 

Hearing his name in that low moan is what finally snaps Dean out of his stupor. There is no way he can continue to watch this without some kind of participation. He fumbles at the waistband of his boxers and pushes them down just far enough to free himself. His cheeks are burning, and his heart is pounding so hard that he can feel it pulsing in his ears. 

But when he looks up and sees Castiel staring at his dick with slack-jawed lust, the last dregs of Dean’s embarrassment drain away. He begins stroking himself, using his precome to slick the way. At first he tries to keep time with Castiel, but as they both get closer to their climax they lose their rhythm. 

Castiel comes first with a wordless shout. Dean watches in awe as his blue eyes, which had been watching Dean intently for so long, screw shut and his whole body clenches. A long white strip of come splashes over his chest, followed by two smaller ones. 

“Holy fuck, Cas,” Dean breathes as he tightens his fist and picks up his pace. 

Castiel’s body goes limp for just a few heartbeats and then in a surge he’s looming over Dean. His eyes are burning into Dean’s, and his breath is sliding over Dean’s skin. “Let me touch you, Dean. I want to feel you come.” 

Dean nods jerkily, and nearly comes off the bed when Castiel’s long fingers wrap around his own, moving into the spaces between them.  Castiel’s thumb brushes over the head of his dick, smearing precome on every upstroke, and his grip is tight around Dean’s hand. 

Castiel’s breath is hot as he leans down to press kisses along Dean’s cheeks. He’s murmuring encouragement, and telling Dean how hot he is, and Dean can barely understand him. But when Castiel’s lips brush his ear and whisper the command to come, Dean obeys because he can do nothing else at this point. 

He blows his load so hard that his vision whites out momentarily. His dick pulses in his hand and he squeezes, pumping out the last dregs of his orgasm. Castiel is still braced over him a few moments later when he’s able to open his eyes. 

The bastard smiles at Dean like he’s proud of him. “How do you feel?” 

“Nnf,” Dean grunts. 

Castiel tilts his head, and Dean can’t help but smile at the gesture. “Are you broken?” 

“Might be,” Dean mumbles in response. He reaches up with his free hand and curls his fingers around the back of Castiel’s neck. There’s no resistance when he pulls Castiel down for a kiss. He savors the feel of Castiel’s tongue inside his mouth, and suckles on it a little before letting go. 

“Are you… was this alright, Dean?” 

Castiel looks worried, and that helps clear a little of the fog from Dean’s brain. He nods and starts to sit up, which forces Castiel to stop leaning over him and sit back on his haunches over Dean’s knees. He looks completely debauched with his hair all mussed up and drying come all over his chest. 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean murmurs. He reaches out to touch Castiel and realizes his hand is slick with his own come. He grimaces at it and rests it in his lap instead. “I’m good.” 

And he is. In fact he’s fucking fantastic. For years there had been a little voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like his dad telling him to _be a man_ and _men don’t do that_ and _don’t be one of those kind of guys_ , that had gotten louder and louder every time Dean responded to Castiel’s flirting at the bakery. But now it is completely silent. 

Because Dean has just masturbated with another man, and it doesn’t feel wrong. He doesn’t feel suddenly different for having participated in the jerk-fest. He doesn’t feel like less of a man for it. 

A slow smile blooms over his face, and he knows he probably looks a little batty if the wary look Castiel is giving him means anything. 

A weight has lifted from his chest. A giddy laugh bubbles up in his throat and he shakes his head at himself.  Damn, but he feels great. 

“Dean?” 

He laughs again at Castiel’s flummoxed expression. Castiel really looks worried now.  

“Dean, what’s wrong?” 

Dean shakes his head and reaches out with his clean hand to grab one of Castiel’s. “I’m good, Cas, really. I feel great.” He tugs at Castiel until he comes close enough for Dean to peck him on the lips. “Thank you.” 

It takes a moment, and another soft kiss, but the worried expression fades from Castiel’s eyes and he smiles in return. “You look as if you just had a revelation.” 

“I think I did.” Dean kisses him again, just because he can. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

A yawn stretches Dean’s jaw until it pops, preventing him from answering. He blinks up at Castiel, suddenly sleepy. He grins up at the other man lazily. “Not right now.” 

Castiel turns his head a little and eyes Dean almost shyly. “Would you… like to spend the night?” 

“Yeah,” Dean breathes. “I’d like that a lot.” 

The smile Castiel gives him is nearly blinding, and it prompts Dean to pull him in for another kiss. They’re both a little breathless again when Castiel pulls away and suggests cleaning up, which Dean is in wholehearted agreement with because his hand is starting to get a sticky and gross. 

They’re both too tired for a shower, but Castiel wipes them down with a warm washcloth, and gets out a new toothbrush for Dean. When they’re done, neither bothers with clothes when they climb into bed. 

At first, Dean isn’t sure exactly how sharing a bed is going to work. Are they going to cuddle, or are they going to keep to their respective sides of the bed? Castiel answers his silent question by guiding him onto his side and curling against his back. 

“This is new,” Dean murmurs into a pillow that smells like linen and Castiel and something sweet. “‘m not used to being the little spoon.” 

Soft lips press against the back of his neck. “Goodnight Dean.” 

Dean grins into the darkness.  “‘Night Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra long chapter to make up for the last one being short :D
> 
> Oh man, this scene was an absolute bitch to write. I actually had a different scene written and I hated it so much I threw it out and started over. It was 3400 words, and man it hurt my heart to see all that work go. And I rewrote several parts of this version until I finally got to the point where it felt finished. 
> 
> Every long fic I write has that *one chapter* that fights me tooth and nail, and I think this was it for this story. At least I hope so, because if I get another stubborn chapter I might flip tables.


	12. Chapter 12

Waking up happens all at once, even though Castiel’s eyes stay closed.  He can’t shake the idea that something is missing.  He rolls onto his back and is struck with sharp disappointment because he is alone in his bed, and he clearly remembers being wrapped around Dean before falling asleep.  But then he registers the smell of something sweet and the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen which sends his mood soaring back up into the stratosphere. 

He throws the covers aside and rolls off the bed. A quick glance tells him that most of Dean’s clothes are still strewn across the floor, and the sight of them mixed in with his own discarded clothing makes Castiel smile. 

After pulling on a pair of boxers, he pads out of his bedroom. He finds Dean in the kitchen, wearing a pair of Castiel’s underwear and nothing else while he carefully flips pancakes on the griddle. Castiel stops in the room’s entrance and watches. 

Dean is humming softly to himself, and rocking to the beat of the music in his head. He seems to know his way around a kitchen, and Castiel is rather impressed. When he sees one of his notebooks open on the counter, he grins with delight. Not only is Dean making him breakfast, but he’s using one of Castiel’s recipes. 

Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s crossed the room and is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist. 

Dean jumps and mutters a curse under his breath. “Damn, Cas, you are like a cat. Warn a guy, will you?” But he rubs his palm over Castiel’s arm and turns his head to deliver a good morning kiss. 

He smells like coffee, and suddenly Castiel is craving caffeine. “I hope there’s enough coffee for me.” 

“Of course.” Dean gestures at the coffee pot with the spatula. “I made a fresh pot since we never drank the one from last night.” 

Castiel nuzzles Dean’s shoulder in a silent thank you before releasing him and moving to pour himself a cup. After he’s added sugar and cream, he holds up the carafe. “Do you want me to top yours off?” 

Dean is scooping the last pancake onto a rather large stack, and he tilts his head toward a mug not too far from the bowl of batter. “Yeah, thanks. I take it black.” 

They move around each other like they’ve been doing it for years. Castiel fills Dean’s mug and carries it over to the table, while Dean follows him carrying two plates stacked high with fluffy pancakes. He’s got the bottle of syrup tucked under his elbow, and Castiel grabs it from him so that he can set down the rest of his burden more gracefully. 

“I know you said that you save pancakes for the third date, but I really wanted to try your peach recipe,” Dean says as he settles in the chair across from Castiel. “I used canned peaches since you didn’t have fresh ones. I hope it still works.” 

Dean is watching Castiel eagerly, waiting for his approval. So Castiel cuts a large bite out of his stack of pancakes and slips it in his mouth. He closes his eyes and moans his approval. They turned out perfect. When he opens his eyes again, he finds Dean beaming at him proudly. 

“I take it they’re good?” 

“Delicious,” Castiel says after he’s swallowed. He takes another bite without adding syrup. It’s real maple (because he’s not a savage), but he thinks the pancakes are perfect without it. 

Dean drops his eyes to his own plate, still smiling, and with an attractive flush under his skin. “Awesome.” 

They aren’t quite silent while they eat, because they both make little sounds of delight every now and then, but they don’t speak until they’re both almost finished. Castiel takes a sip of his coffee to clear his palette and pauses to watch Dean enjoy his own breakfast. “I didn’t know you could cook.” 

Dean shrugs and talks with a full mouth and somehow manages to make that look sexy. “I can follow a recipe. It’s no big deal.” 

“Still,” Castiel insists. “Modifying a recipe and having it still come out correctly is something not just anyone can do.” Canned peaches would have been much more moist, and Dean would have needed to compensate for that when making the batter. 

“I dunno, it doesn’t seem like that’s hard to do.” 

Castiel disagrees, but redirects the subject since Dean doesn’t seem to want to take the compliment. “Do you like to cook?” 

Having finished his breakfast, Dean leans back in his chair and sips at his coffee. “I like cooking if I have someone to appreciate it. If it’s just me, I stick with simple stuff like sandwiches.” He pauses and gives Castiel a wary look. “You’re cool with me taking over your kitchen, right?” 

“Absolutely,” Castiel hastens to assure him. “I am not the kind of chef who can’t share his domain.” 

The reassurance makes Dean’s shoulders relax. “That’s good. I didn’t even think that I might have been invading your space when I started.” 

“My best friend Balthazar doesn’t like to share his domain. It’s why he gave up his dream of running a restaurant and opened a club instead. He couldn’t stand other cooks in the kitchen with him.” Castiel shakes his head. “I have never understood his territorial tendencies. I love having people to share the experience with. Which is probably a good thing because otherwise I’d probably shove my brother in an oven when he annoys me.” 

That surprises a laugh out of Dean and Castiel beams at him. He’s thrilled that there isn’t any awkwardness between them after what they did last night. If Dean is feeling any reservations about it, he’s certainly not acting like it. 

In fact, sitting together at the table wearing nothing but their underwear would probably make Castiel feel strange with anyone else, but with Dean it feels comfortable. It’s incredibly domestic, and Castiel sends up a silent prayer that Dean likes it as much as he does. 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when Dean speaks. “What time do you need to get to work? I can give you a ride, if you want.” 

Castiel’s eyes widen when he realizes that his alarm hadn’t gone off.  He’d been too interested in Dean to stop and think about what time it was when he woke. With a curse, he leaps from his seat and rushes into his room. His phone is still in his pants pocket and the power is off. He pulls it free and waits impatiently while it turns on. 

As soon as it has booted enough to display a signal he gets a cascade of text message and voicemail notifications. Ignoring the voicemails for now, he taps the message icon. There are new messages from Michael which he passes over for the ones from Gabriel. 

_Shop’s open and Alfie’s manning the register like a pro. You’re still coming in today right?_  

_Yo, bro._

_Man I hope the radio silence means you got plowed and not that you’re tied up in a basement somewhere._

_Call me Cassie.  I’m starting to get worried._  

He doesn’t bother to read through the rest of the messages. He dials Gabriel’s number and presses the phone to his ear. His brother picks up on the second ring. 

“Well I guess this means you’re not tied up in a basement.” 

“Gabriel! I am so sorry, I turned my phone off last night and forgot about it. I use it for my alarm- ” 

“Whoa there, Turbo. You’re cool. Alfie and I are holding down the fort. I just wanted to make sure you made it home safe last night. Although your timing is good because I was starting to think I might need to file a missing person report. Kinda rude to leave me hanging like this after what happened the other day.” 

Gabriel is obnoxious, disgusting, and frequently likes to tap dance on Castiel’s last nerve. But the concern in his tone reminds Castiel that his older brother cares about him. He feels like a jackass for making him worry, but he doesn’t even try to apologize because Gabriel would just brush him off. “Thank you for taking care of things for me this morning Gabriel. I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Hell yeah you will. We’ll discuss my terms later.” 

Castiel laughs. “Of course. Give me an hour and I’ll be there.” 

They say their goodbyes and Castiel ends the call. He considers seeing what Michael wanted, but before he can go back into his messages, Dean’s voice from the doorway behind him distracts him from the thought. 

“Shit, Cas. I’m sorry I let you sleep in.” 

Castiel tosses his phone on the bed and turns to smile at the other man. Dean is all golden skin and bulging muscles. But he also looks soft, with a little bit of pudge around his belly and an outward curve to his long legs. Once again, Castiel is reminded of a cowboy. 

A nearly naked cowboy. 

“It’s not your fault,” Castiel murmurs as he moves into Dean’s personal space and tilts his head up for a kiss, which Dean returns. 

It starts out as just a soft touch of their lips, but deepens until they’re clutching at each other. Castiel’s hands are straining to get a grip on Dean’s short hair, and Dean’s hands have plunged down the back of his boxers to squeeze at his ass. Dean’s hard against Castiel’s belly, and it’s nice to know that Dean is still on board with exploring his sexuality because right now all Castiel can think about is dropping to his knees and giving Dean another lesson in gay sex. 

“Dean,” he murmurs when they break apart for air. “Will you join me in the shower?” 

Dazed green eyes blink at him, and Dean’s voice sounds drugged when he answers. “Yeah, Cas. Shower sounds good.” 

Grinning at Dean’s easy acceptance, Castiel nudges him until he turns and leads the way into the bathroom. Now that they’re moving, Dean appears to be eager to continue. Last night he had seemed a little shy about getting naked, but now he drops his boxers without hesitation, and reaches to help Castiel get naked as well. 

In between hot kisses and exploring hands, they manage to get the shower turned on and the curtain closed. Neither of them goes for the soap though because they’re too wrapped up in each other. 

Castiel turns them so that the shower is spraying down on the back of Dean’s neck and leans up to whisper in his ear. “I want to suck your cock, Dean. Will you let me?” 

Dean hisses a soft curse and nods. When Castiel leans back and meets his gaze, Dean’s eyes are wide and lust blown and his mouth is hanging open as he gasps for breath. There’s no hint of hesitation in his expression, so Castiel gives him a slow smile and maneuvers himself down to kneel on the floor of the shower. He’s probably going to end up with bruised knees, but he already knows it’ll be worth it. 

He holds Dean’s eyes with his own as he reaches up and starts stroking his dick. Castiel had nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw it last night. Dean is uncut, and Castiel has always had a bit of a kink for that. His dick is absolutely gorgeous, and Castiel feels a thrill go through him at finally getting to touch it without the barrier of Dean’s hand under his own. 

Seeing Dean watch him like he is now is also sending shots of lust through him. Dean looks completely shell shocked, and he’s clenching his fingers in fists at his side as if he’s not sure what to do with them. It’s a reminder that this is all new for Dean and Castiel smiles at him reassuringly even as he slowly strokes his dick. 

“It’s okay to touch me,” he says roughly. He leans forward and runs the flat of his tongue over the head of Dean’s dick without breaking eye contact. 

“Oh God,” Dean whimpers and one of his hands comes up and gently cups the back of Castiel’s head. “Please do that again.” 

Well, how can he say no when Dean says “please” like that? 

Castiel laves the head of Dean’s dick several more times, relishing the soft sounds the other man makes with each pass of his tongue. But he wants to feel the weight of Dean’s dick in his mouth, so he stops teasing and in one quick motion he takes in as much of it as he can. 

The fingers in his hair tighten reflexively but even though Castiel is expecting Dean to use the leverage to fuck into his mouth deeper, he doesn’t. His grip on Castiel’s hair is tight, but he’s letting Castiel set his own pace. 

Castiel closes his eyes and takes Dean further into his throat anyway. This is something he’s wanted for a long time, and he wants to savor it. He’s good at giving head, and he wants to literally blow Dean’s self control out of the water. He loses himself in the taste and feel of Dean, in the small noises he makes when his dick nudges the back of Castiel’s throat. 

He’s so intent on what he’s doing that he doesn’t even think about Dean’s inexperience when one of his hands, which had come up to cup Dean’s balls a few minutes before, slips back between his ass cheeks and he nudges a finger at his hole. He’s reminded when Dean’s whole body jerks in surprise. His eyes snap open, and he starts to pull back to apologize, but Dean finally exerts a little bit of control with the fingers in his hair. 

Dean is staring down at him, breathing hard, and he looks completely wrecked. “Don’t stop, Cas.” 

Unable to answer because his mouth is busy, Castiel quirks an eyebrow and slides his fingers back to press at the sensitive flesh that he wants desperately to explore. Dean nods jerkily and even shifts his legs open a little further. 

Now that he’s been given permission, Castiel goes back to the task of taking Dean apart with his mouth, now with the added assistance of his fingers. He presses very gently until just the tip of his finger slips past the ring of muscle. He works slowly until he’s in deep enough that he thinks he can find- _ah yes, there it is._  

When Castiel presses gently against the sensitive bundle of nerves, Dean lets out a string of curses and his body tenses. Castiel feels the shudder that goes through him seconds before musky come fills his mouth. He swallows it down eagerly and keeps suckling until Dean pulls him away. 

“Stop, Cas, fuck,” Dean gasps. He’s bracing one hand against the shower wall and he’s staring down at Castiel like he’s some kind of divine being. 

“How was that?” Castiel asks smugly. He already knows the answer, but he’s not above asking for a little bit of praise. 

The look Dean gives him is half _holy shit_ , and half _are you fucking kidding me?_ And he shakes his head with an incredulous laugh. “You just sucked my brains straight outta my dick, man. I’m not sure how I’m still standing, to be honest.” 

Castiel beams up at him. Bracing himself on the side of the tub, he pushes himself back to his feet and tilts his head up for a kiss. Dean obliges him and licks into his mouth as if he’s eager to taste himself. 

“Let me take care of you now,” Dean murmurs when he breaks away from the kiss. 

“Dean, you don’t have to-” 

“I’m going to anyway.” Dean doesn’t drop to his knees and go in for the blowjob, but his hand wraps around Castiel’s dick in a firm grip. 

Castiel isn’t disappointed in the least. He’s already pushed Dean farther than he planned, and besides he’s so fucking horny that a handjob is going to get him off pretty quickly. To his pleasure, Dean seems to remember his lesson from the night before and it’s not long before Castiel is right on the edge. 

Dean leans back enough to watch what he’s doing, and the look of hungry fascination on his face is what finally pulls Castiel over the edge. He drops his head to watch as stripes of his come splash across Dean’s torso. The shower water immediately washes it away, but not before a tendril of possessiveness curls around Castiel’s heart at the sight. 

Dean pulls Castiel against his chest in a tight hug and murmurs against his ear. “That was so hot, I’m half tempted to go again. But we better wrap up this shower or you’re going to be even more late for work.” 

For just a moment Castiel lets Dean hold him. He buries his face in his neck, and mouths at the wet skin there. With Dean’s arms around him he feels precious and cherished, and he falls a little bit more for the Hot Cop. It worries him a little how much he cares already, and he can’t help but fear that it won’t last long. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with dating men who are just starting to explore their sexuality but he’s heard plenty of horror stories about how it could go wrong. 

He doesn’t want it to go wrong. He wants it to stay as perfect as it has been so far. He wants to let himself fall in love with Dean without the fear of future heartache. 

Something must clue Dean in to Castiel’s sudden uncertainty because he tightens his arms. “Hey, you okay?” 

Castiel barks a soft laugh. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

Dean leans back and nudges at Castiel’s chin until he has no choice but to meet his eyes or look like an idiot. His green eyes are framed by dark lashes spiked from water and lines of worry. “Why would you ask if I’m okay?” 

Castiel shrugs and pulls out of the embrace. He reaches for the soap for something to do and starts rubbing it briskly over his skin. “I know this is new to you, and I don’t want to push your limits.” 

“Dude, you haven’t even come close.” Dean ducks his head a little until Castiel is forced to look at him. He smiles reassuringly and reaches up to brush his fingers over the stubble on Castiel’s cheek. “I might be surprised by things, but if I don’t like them I will be the first one to let you know. If I don’t say ‘stop’-” 

Feeling many times better because of Dean’s earnest words, Castiel grins and cuts in, “Or sixty- seven?” 

Dean laughs and nods. “Right. If I don’t tell you to stop, then don’t.” 

“I’m still going to try and make sure you’re okay with things before I try them,” Castiel says. He’s forgotten to keep washing himself and is leaning into Dean’s chest. 

“I’m cool with that,” Dean murmurs before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Now we better hurry up, or we’re going to run out of hot water and your brother is probably going to be pissed at me for making you even more late.” 

Castiel agrees, and they make quick work of finishing the shower and getting dry and dressed. Dean reiterates his offer to give Castiel a ride, and smiles happily when Castiel accepts. 

When they slide into the Impala, Dean reaches across the seat for his hand, flashing him a warm smile. He doesn’t let go for the entire drive. 

The trip is short, and Castiel is disappointed that his time with Dean is over already. Especially since he doesn’t know how long it’ll be until they see each other again. When the car pulls up in front of Heavenly Delights, Castiel sighs. Normally the sight of his bakery would excite him because it is the culmination of all his dreams. But now he’d rather Dean put the car back in gear and keep driving for a little while. 

“Hey.” Dean tugs at his fingers to get his attention. “When can I see you again?” 

Castiel can’t help the laugh that bubbles up inside him. “The next time Jo sends you on a donut run?” 

Dean chuckles, but he still looks earnest. “No, man. I mean I want to hang out again.” 

“You know my hours,” Castiel points out. “I’d love to spend time with you whenever you want.” 

“Tonight?” 

Castiel blinks.  “Really?” 

Dean shrugs with one shoulder. “I have to work tomorrow so I can’t stay up too late, but I’m not doing anything this evening except watching Doctor Sexy and probably warming up a frozen pizza.” 

“You watch Doctor Sexy?” That’s it. That’s the clincher. Castiel is keeping Dean. 

Dean wrinkles his nose. “I know it’s crappy, but I’m a little bit addicted.” 

“I should be done around five,” Castiel says quickly. “If you want to come pick me up. I’ll make you a fresh pizza if you want to come over.” 

He’s tugged across the seat and Dean kisses him. It’s just a chaste peck on the lips, but it leaves Castiel burning for more. “Awesome. I’ll see you tonight.” 

Castiel nods, dazed. He gets out of the car and returns Dean’s wave. He watches the big black car pull away, and when it’s out of sight he turns to walk inside his shop, bracing himself for the inevitable shit-storm of teasing he’s about to face from his brother. He sighs and wonders how he’s supposed to get through the rest of his day when he has Dean waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, another chapter already?? Why yes :D
> 
> I am 34 and I have been wearing braces for 6 months. Yesterday they made a major change on the gear inside my mouth and I feel like my whole face is being rearranged and it HURTS. So I played hooky from work and wrote a chapter because right now the only thing that makes me feel better are pain pills and fluffy Destiel moments.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean closes the door behind him and stares at the wall on the far side of his living room, but doesn’t see the framed art hanging there, because his mind is occupied elsewhere.  It has been a very long time since he’s come home from someone else’s place in the morning.  He wracks his brain, trying to think of the last time he spent the night with someone, but gets side tracked by the memory of how nice it was to share a bed with Castiel. 

Falling asleep lethargic from an orgasm and being held. Damn he’s missed that. 

It’s different with a man. The body pressed against his had been firm and hot and nearly as large as his own. Castiel’s legs tangled with his, and when Dean woke and stretched, the catch of Castiel’s leg hair against his own was odd, yet sexy as fuck. 

He’d rolled over, intent on doing something about his raging morning wood, but then Castiel curled into his chest, nuzzling at him and murmuring incoherently. And instead of letting his hands wander until Castiel woke up and decided to get in on the fun, Dean watched him sleep for several minutes while running his fingers through Castiel’s unruly and unfairly soft hair. 

And even though he was incredibly horny, he couldn’t bring himself to wake Castiel. Instead, he’d gotten out of bed and made him breakfast. 

It was all so… domestic. And perfect. 

Feeling a little muddled, Dean wanders into the room he calls his office. It’s mostly just a storage room with one corner occupied by a desk with a fancy gaming computer with dual monitors. 

Charlie helped him build it when she got him playing World of Warcraft, but she also helped him set it up with Photoshop and a nice tablet. She says it’s a legal copy of the software, but he certainly hopes no one ever looks too closely at the computer because he isn’t sure he believes her. 

Tossing his jacket over the back of his desk chair, he plops down and wakes the machine up. He smiles at the background image. It’s a portrait of Sam and Jo’s wedding that he drew for them as a gift. It’s one of his favorites, which is why he hasn’t changed the wallpaper for such a long time. 

He isn’t really sure what he’s planning on doing. He hasn’t played any games in a while, and he’s not really in the mood to work on the comic book he’s been painstakingly revamping from old sketchbooks he found in a box when he moved into the duplex a few years ago. He wiggles the mouse, running the cursor around in circles for almost a full minute before he finally pulls up a browser. 

His typing skills are only slightly better than hunting and pecking, but he slowly types his search in with two fingers from each hand. 

Wikipedia is the first thing to come up, and Dean clicks on the link. It’s as good a place to start as any, and he's got time to kill. 

An hour later, he’s cursing himself. Of course defining his newfound sexuality can’t just be easy. Oh no. There are arguments all over the internet about the difference between bisexuality and pansexuality and then there are romantic orientations, and asexuals, and demisexuals which is the easiest for him to understand despite the fact that he knows for sure that isn’t the right term for whatever the hell he is. At one point he even finds himself on a site that quizzes him and gives him his Kinsey score. He’s not sure he completely agrees that he’s a two, but hey he’s not a psychologist so how the hell would he know how accurate it is? 

A dull pain is throbbing behind his eyes when he decides to take a break. There’s just way too much to think about, and he doesn’t feel like dealing with it right now. 

He leans back in his chair and rubs both hands over his face, and let’s his mind wander back to Castiel. He still doesn’t know exactly what it is about the other man that attracts him. He knows a lot of good looking guys. Even Benny is smoking hot, but while Dean recognizes that, he doesn’t have any sexual feelings attached to the idea. So why Castiel? 

“Ah fuck, what does it matter?” he mutters to himself. 

The fact is that Dean likes Castiel.   _Likes_ likes him. With or without sex, he wants to spend more time with him. 

Although, he’s definitely up for sex. The memory of Castiel straddling his thighs and jerking himself off has Little Dean perking up in interest. He wishes he’d been brave enough to reach out and touch Castiel and help him get off at that point. When he’d finally worked up the courage in the shower, the weight of Castiel’s dick against his palm had nearly made him hard again even though he’d just had an orgasm. 

He wants to do it again. He wants to do more next time. But he’s not sure how to go about it. 

Before he really thinks about what he’s doing, he’s pulled up a new browser and typed in a new search. 

_How to have gay sex._  

His eye catches the image of Sam and Jo smiling at him from his other monitor, and with an annoyed grunt he pulls up his image gallery and changes the background to one of the Windows defaults before going back to his browser. He does not need family watching him while he’s researching gay sex, thank you very much. 

Before he can find something useful he has to dig through porn sites, hook up sites, medical sites (which he decides to avoid in case they tell him something that will scar him for life) and all the religious nutbag sites. By the time he finds what he is looking for, he almost doesn’t want to know anymore. 

But he is determined to at least learn a little bit about gay sex before he sees Castiel again. When he started the search it was just a vague idea, but the further he gets, the more he understands exactly what it is he’s most interested in learning about. 

“Bottoming” is a term he was only vaguely aware of before he started this Googling adventure. Thank you, Internet. 

Here in the safety of his own home, without being under Castiel’s sharp scrutiny, Dean can admit to himself that he is wildly curious about it. He has been since high school actually. Not only had Rhonda talked him into trying on her panties (and he wonders what Castiel will think of that little fetish?), but she had also slipped him a finger a few times. 

He’s never had an orgasm as intense since then, until this morning. 

He’d been surprised when Castiel touched him there, but definitely on board. As he looked down at those sexy lips wrapped around his cock and felt Castiel’s finger moving inside him, he nearly had an out of body experience. 

Just thinking about it was making his jeans uncomfortably tight. 

Honestly though, he’s a little bit scared to try it. Especially when he starts reading one very detailed blog on how to keep his ass prepared so that it’s not painful. 

Ugh, he’s not sure he wants to do that kind of stuff. Do women do that for themselves? He’s only had anal sex with a few women, and only because they asked. God, did he hurt them? They seemed to like it, but how would he really know unless they said something? 

He closes all the tabs he has open and leans back in his seat. He chews absently at his thumbnail as he stares at his computer. Last night and this morning Castiel had been very careful with him, cautious about pushing his boundaries. 

Dean told him the truth when he’d said that Castiel hadn’t even come close to pushing him, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t appreciate Castiel’s patience and care for his wellbeing. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to accept the things they did last night and this morning. Castiel never made him feel rushed or coerced into anything they did. 

Leaning his head back on his chair, Dean closes his eyes and lets memories replay of Castiel’s hands and mouth, his voice and his eyes. The way he had watched Dean so closely, like he was afraid to miss any tiny movement or sound, that had been really hot. Cas says he is an exhibitionist, but maybe Dean is too, because being watched like that is really doing it for Dean, even if only in memory. 

His imagination starts supplying him with images of some of the things he’d like to try. He wants to try sucking Castiel off. Or a double handjob with their dicks sliding together. Or riding Castiel until they’re both exhausted and covered in come. 

That last mental image makes his fingers twitch. With a jerk he sits up and scrambles for a notepad and pencil. He can’t draw the idea floating around in his brain in Photoshop, because he needs to preserve that image in paper and carbon. 

He’s got a stack of sketchbooks on the desk, and one or two of them are just for nudes, but he is too eager to start drawing to find one of them. He grabs the top sketchbook and flips it open to a clean page. It’s almost a relief to feel the scratch of lead against the paper as he starts laying down the first few lines. 

Most of the time, he draws in a simple cartoon-like style. It’s the one he uses for the comics he creates. The picture Dean gave to Castiel had been in that style, although the wings were a little more elaborate than normal. But sometimes he does realistic portraits, and that’s the style he goes with now. 

Slowly, an image comes to life under his hand. Castiel lying on his back, hair wild and mouth slack. Dean’s hand braced on his chest, one thumb covering his nipple. It’s as if Dean is above him, looking down, grinding down on him, listening to him pant and moan and- 

Dean tosses the notepad and pencil onto the desk and quickly frees himself from his jeans and the boxers he borrowed from Castiel that morning. He’s already on edge, and it only takes a minute or two before he’s spilling all over his hand. He shoves his other fist between his teeth and keens as his orgasm washes through him. 

When his body finally starts to come down from its high, he sags in the chair, nearly sliding out of it. “Jesus Christ,” he pants. 

Once he catches his breath his stomach rumbles, reminding him he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. A glance at the clock tells him he’s been sitting at his desk for most of the day, but he’s still got a few hours until he’s supposed to meet Castiel. 

Careful not to make a bigger mess than he has already, he gets up and heads into the bathroom where he cleans himself up. He also changes his clothes before heading into the kitchen to grab a beer and make a sandwich. 

Cheeks puffed out as he chews the first bite, he wanders back into his office. He closes the sketchbook without looking at it, because he doesn’t want to get himself going again, and sets it back on the stack with the others. He stares thoughtfully at his computer’s screen saver. 

Now that he has a better idea of what he's willing to do with Castiel, he feels a little more like himself.  Less confused, more confident.  And totally looking forward to seeing Castiel later.  Even if they don’t end up fooling around, just knowing that he has a starting point for what he wants to try excites him. 

He finishes his sandwich and decides that since he's got more time to kill, he's going to work on his comic. He's still not in the mood for digital art, so he grabs his sketchbook and a few pencils and a sharpener before heading down to the living room so he can sit somewhere more comfortable than the desk chair. 

The comic is based off doodles he used to draw for Sam when they were kids. The story is about two brothers who travel the country fighting supernatural monsters. He is modifying it though, making it a more adult story. And for the last few weeks he's added an overarching story line to tie all the smaller ones together. 

The oldest brother, who he still calls Dean just because he's too lazy to come up with new names, has just decided he wants to try getting out of going to hell for selling his soul. Dean isn't sure how to get himself out of the corner he's written himself into yet, but he figures if he keeps working on it something will come to him eventually. 

Some time his concentration is broken when the front door opens. He looks up to find his brother peeking in through the opening, and when he sees Dean, the rest of him follows. "Hey Dean." 

A smile breaks out on Dean's face at the sight of his little brother. He's wearing a t-shirt and sweats, with only some worn slippers on to keep his feet warm for the short trip between their homes. It seems like it's been forever since he's seen Sam in anything other than a business suit. "Hey Sammy, what's up? No overtime today?" 

Sam shakes his head as he makes his way over to plop down on the couch. His shaggy hair sways with the movement and Dean makes a mental note to give him shit for it as soon as possible. "No, Jody threatened to fire me if she found out I was working today." He grimaces, but it's tinged with humor. 

"Well that seals my vote for the next election then." Even if Jody wasn't practically family Dean would want to keep her as the District Attorney. She doesn’t put up with shit but she’s fair. As far as he's concerned, the only place he'd rather have her be is on a judge's podium. "And you decided to spend some of that hard won free time pestering me instead of loving up on your wife? I'm flattered." 

Rolling his eyes, Sam kicks at him across the couch. "I wore Jo out with all the 'loving' we've been missing out on this week, so I have a few hours to spare for you until she wakes up and wants round two." 

"Ugh, dude! Really?" Dean squeezes his eyes shut against that mental image. 

"You started it," Sam responds with an unrepentant laugh. 

Dean makes a low sound of disgust. In his mind, Sam and Jo will be twelve and ten forever, and the baby in her belly is from immaculate conception. He opens his mouth to say so, but Sam changes the subject first. 

"Speaking of, how did your date go last night?" 

Ever since Sam and Jo finally noticed each other and became disgustingly domestic, they've both been completely unsubtle in their wishes for him to find a girl and settle down as well. And it's gotten worse since Jo found out she's pregnant because they know Dean loves kids. So really, Dean is surprised Sam waited as long as he has to corner him with questions. 

Just because he knows Sam is going to pull his matchmaker bullshit, that doesn't mean Dean isn't going to make him work for it. He tosses his sketchbook on the couch between them and gets up to stretch muscles sore from sitting still for too long. His answer is nonchalant as he makes his way to the kitchen for something to drink. "It went fine." 

_If there is a God,_ Dean thinks wryly, _he'll strike me dead for such a bald-assed lie_. "Fine" is the mother of all understatements. 

No lightning bolts slam through the roof to nail him for his dishonesty, proving once again that Dean is probably right about the whole No God thing, but his brother does give him a truly epic bitch face for the lie. "Just fine? Dean, you didn't come home last night." 

Dean grins as he ducks into the kitchen. "What, are you staying up all night with your ear pressed to the wall listening for me? That's creepy, Sam." He opens the fridge and grabs a beer, but after a moment's thought he puts it back and grabs a soda instead. He knows his tolerance for alcohol is high but he has to work the next day and he doesn't want to risk anything. He grabs a second soda and tosses it to his brother when he saunters back into the living room. 

“I heard you get home this morning, Dean.” Sam sets the soda on the side table without opening it. Probably doesn’t want it because of all the sugar and caffeine, the damn hippy. He grabs Dean’s sketchbook and starts flipping through it idly. “It was almost ten, so it wasn’t like you were hard to miss.” 

Well Dean can’t argue that. He shrugs and takes a long swig of his soda while he tries to come up with a way to avoid talking about Castiel. He’s not afraid Sam will judge him for dating a guy, because he knows his brother is all progressive about that kind of shit. But he knows his brother is going to ask him questions he’s not ready to answer yet. 

Luckily Sam is distracted by the contents of the sketchbook. He sits up suddenly and looks up at Dean like an excited puppy. “You’re working on this again?” 

Dean grins and nods. “Yeah, I’ve had a few ideas. I’ve been feeling inspired.” 

“That’s great, Dean!” He continues to flip through the pages, his eyes scanning over the images with the half written dialogue. 

Dean realizes that the sketchbook Sam is holding is the wrong one at exactly the same time Sam comes across the one picture Dean does not want him to see. He jerks forward to grab it, but he’s far too late. Sam has already gotten an eyeful. He slaps a hand over his eyes and doesn’t even object when Dean snatches the book out of his hands and retreats to the other side of the room. “Oh for the love of- Dean, you could have warned me!” 

“I didn’t exactly plan on showing you what I was working on,” Dean grumbles as he holds the sketchbook close against his chest. It’s a weak argument and he knows it. He’s never been shy about showing his work to Sam, and he’s usually annoyingly organized about what he draws in each sketchbook.  He likes to organize them by subject which is why he has so many that are only partially filled with art. And it’s not like Sam hasn’t seen some of the nudes he’s drawn… he’s just never seen one of a man before. 

Sam drops his hand and gives him an annoyed glare, but it morphs quickly into realization. Because he knows Dean typically draws people from memory. “Dude… who is that?” 

If a hole opened under his feet right now and dropped him straight into hell, Dean is sure it would be far preferable than the conversation he’s about to have. His panicked brain isn’t able to come up with a suitable lie, and the truth comes tumbling out. “His name is Castiel… he runs that bakery where I get the bacon donuts for Jo.” 

He shuts up right there, hoping that Sam will take that answer and let it go. Which he doesn’t. Of course not. 

“So, uh… that’s a pretty detailed picture.” 

Dean runs a thumb over the edge of the sketchbook, and avoids his brother’s eyes. “Yeah.” 

Sam just stares at him. Dean has never been able to outlast Sam, and it doesn’t take him long to break. “Cas and I went out last night, okay? And I’m going over to his place tonight. In an hour or so, actually.” 

“That’s great, Dean,” Sam says, slowly as if he’s afraid of startling Dean. And he might be. No one knows Dean as well as he does, and as nosy as he is, Sam does know when to back off most of the time. “I guess that means you really like him, huh?” 

Dean’s whole body had gone tight with panic when Sam found the picture. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a long exhale, trying to calm himself down. “Yeah, he’s uh… he’s really cool.” 

“You’re not going to freak out and stop dating him now that I know, are you?” 

Dean’s head snaps up at the question. That thought never occurred to him. “What? Hell, no.” 

Sam lets out a relieved breath and he smiles. “Good. Because you know I don’t care who you date as long as they make you happy, right?” 

Confirmation that his brother is just as awesome as he always thought makes Dean smile a little. But another thought wipes away the warm feeling. He clears his throat and looks away. “Dad’ll care.” 

“Dad is a dick.” Sam practically spits the words. 

“Sam…” Dean rubs a hand over his face. He’s been running interference between Sam and their dad for so long that even though he knows Sam is right in this case, he automatically tries to fend off whatever shit he is planning to say about John. 

“No, Dean.” Sam gets up and crosses the room, forcing Dean to look at him just by looming. He’s good at looming. “Don’t even try to defend him.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and shrugs away from Sam’s outstretched hand. He heads back for the couch, but doesn’t sit. He drops the sketchbook on the coffee table and spins around to face his brother. “Yeah, okay whatever. It’s not like Dad’s going to meet him anyway so it doesn’t matter.” 

Sam blinks at him. “You’re not going to tell him?” 

“It’s only the second date, Sam. He doesn’t need to know yet, alright?” He knows he’s being overly defensive, but he’s pissed at himself for even bringing up the subject. “Look, let’s just drop it.” 

Sam looks like he wants to say more, but the front door opens and Jo pokes her head in. She looks exhausted even though the raging bed head she’s sporting makes it clear she’s been sleeping. “Hey guys, you having a party without me?” 

“Hey, babe.” Sam goes to meet her as she comes the rest of the way into the house and wraps her in his arms. She looks tiny and fragile next to Sam even though Dean knows she could probably bring either of them down with a few well placed hits. “You feeling okay?” 

“I’m a little irritated that I woke up alone.” She squeezes Sam a little tighter to let him know she’s not really mad at him before pulling back and looking between the two brothers. “It’s awful serious in here. What were you guys talking about?” 

Dean’s only warning is the amused smirk Sam sends his way. “Oh, we were just talking about the guy Dean is dating.” 

He shoots Sam a _you’ll pay for that_ look. 

Jo’s eyes go wide and she stares at Dean in utter shock. “But you’re not gay!” 

Finally, someone who is as surprised by this whole thing as Dean is. If she weren’t tucked under Sam’s arm, Dean would hug her. 

“He’s a little gay,” Sam retorts with a grin. 

Dean throws up his hands. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” 

But he can’t help but join in when they laugh at him. It feels good to know that his siblings are cool with him dating a guy. 

He’ll have to deal with John’s reaction eventually. But not today. And it’s easy not to think about that impending confrontation when he’s busy fending off Sam and Jo’s teasing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert!
> 
> Y'all have good reason to be worried about Michael, but is he the only obstacle Cas and Dean will face??? DUN DUN DUN. If you think I'm writing ALL THE FLUFFINESS without plans for ALL THE ANGST, then you obviously haven't read my other stories and don't know what you're in for. 
> 
> *mad cackling*


	14. Chapter 14

Castiel follows the last customer of the afternoon to the door and waves them out before flipping the Open sign to Closed. He breathes a sigh of relief. According to Gabriel the morning hadn't been busy, but shortly after Castiel got there business picked up and they were kept on their toes for the rest of the day. 

On the bright side it has been busy enough that Gabriel hasn't had a chance to tease him yet. Castiel would appreciate the reprieve if he wasn't feeling so exhausted. Despite sleeping in, Castiel still hasn't gotten as much sleep as he needs and being on his feet and on the move all day certainly doesn't help. 

But despite all that, there is still a bounce in his step when he walks away from the store's entrance, past the display counter which is nearly empty, and into the kitchen. Alfie is busy scrubbing pans at the huge industrial sink at the back and Gabriel is nowhere to be seen, which means he's probably in the office. 

"So. You and Officer Hot Ass had a good time last night?" 

Or not. 

Castiel nearly jumps out of his skin when Gabriel's voice comes from right behind him. He turns enough to glare at his brother for startling him then moves toward the rack of dry pans. He grabs a stack to put away. The next day is Sunday and the shop is closed, otherwise he'd be prepping them for bread to be baked the next morning. He's a little disappointed that Dean has to work the next day since Castiel will be able to stay up as late as he wants tonight. 

Gabriel isn't put off by his silence. He stops to ruffle Alfie's hair before grabbing some rags and sanitizer to start wiping down surfaces. "C'mon Cassie. You know I won't give up. You might as well spill the beans." 

He's right of course, but Castiel has never been eager to speak about his dating adventures. Now is no exception. But he decides to give Gabriel the bare bones story in hopes it'll appease his curiosity enough to get him to back off. 

"We went to dinner, and then we went for a drive." He decides not to mention the stargazing or the list of date ideas. Gabriel will have far too much fun with that. "I invited him to visit a little longer when he brought me home and he ended up spending the night." 

Gabriel throws up both hands. "Score! So is he any good in the sack?" 

Technically Castiel doesn't know yet despite how mind blowing his orgasms had been. But he can definitely affirm that Dean is fantastic with his hands. He won't; it's none of Gabriel's damn business. But Dean seemed eager to learn so that was definitely something to put in the plus column about him. 

The list was already getting pretty long. 

 

1.  Sexy

2.  Funny

3.  Considerate

4.  Can cook

5.  Open to sex acts he hasn't experienced yet

6.  Artistic

7.  Likes to cuddle 

 

That last one is actually Castiel's favorite. Falling asleep wrapped around another body for once instead of with a foot of space between him and his lover made the whole experience ten times better. 

He's not going to admit any of this to his brother though, so he settles on another half truth. "I don't know.  We didn't have intercourse." 

He realizes that his wording is a mistake as soon as he finishes the sentence. Gabriel latches onto it with wicked glee. "Oh? But you did fool around? How far did he let you go before he had a straight boy panic attack?" 

Realizing that his attempts to get out of this conversation have failed, Castiel sighs. "He didn't have a problem with anything we did. In fact I was more worried about pushing him too far than he was.” 

Gabriel moves quickly over to the sink and covers Alfie’s ears, ignoring the younger man’s protests. He grins at Castiel. “So do you think there’ll be fuckin’ on the next date?” 

Alfie wriggles free of Gabriel’s grip and casts him an acid glare. “I’m almost twenty, Gabe. I’m not a kid.” 

Gabriel waves a hand at the younger man in dismissal. “I’ll believe that when you finally stand up to your mom, kiddo.” 

Their young cousin bristles, and Castiel would normally jump in to stop the impending explosion, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. Shaking his head at his family, he sneaks out of the kitchen to the office to check his messages. Warmth fills his chest when he sees it’s from Dean. 

_u need me 2 bring ne thing 2nite?_  

Castiel chews his bottom lip in an attempt to keep from grinning like an idiot, just in case Gabriel comes in the room, and taps out a reply. _I believe I have everything I need. I should be finished here soon._  

Dean’s reply comes quickly. _Want a ride home?_  

Castiel takes a moment to consider. Of course he would like a ride home even though it isn’t necessary. It’s only a few days until Thanksgiving, and the days are getting colder, and without his favorite coat the walk is far less pleasant in the chilly evenings. But if Dean picks him up, it will give Gabriel more fodder with which to tease Castiel. 

He remembers the soft comfort of the Impala’s seat and the smell of exhaust, oil, and leather. He recalls how natural Dean looks behind the wheel, relaxed and smiling. And in the end, the decision is rather easy. Gabriel will find something to tease him about anyway, so he might as well take Dean up on the offer. 

_Yes, that would be nice. You can come pick me up at any time_. 

_Awesome omw_

Castiel cocks his head to the side as he tries to puzzle out the last part. On My Way maybe? He’s never understood how people could understand whole sentences written using just the first letter of each word. He shakes his head, and backs out of the message app. That’s when he notices several unread messages. 

He opens the app again, and sees that they are from Michael. “Shit,” he murmurs when he remembers ignoring them earlier that morning.  He completely forgot about his voicemails too. 

He decides to read the text messages first, and taps on Michael’s name. When a picture of Michael’s dick loads on the screen he recoils slightly. He’s not adverse to naked picture messages, but Michael has never sent him one, and it’s surprising. It’s also a little grating since it was unasked for, and Castiel has no interest right now. He grimaces slightly as he deletes it.  There’s no need to keep it, since it isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before.  

The messages make him even more uncomfortable. 

_I know you’re ignoring me Cassie. Pick up your phone._  

_Oh is that how it’s going to be? Look what you’re missing out on._

_You won’t be getting it for a while cuz I’m pissed at you now._  

Unease coils in his belly. Michael has never been so aggressive about getting his attention before, and it’s a little disturbing that he’s threatening to punish Castiel for ignoring him. He’s not really sure he wants to listen to the voicemails now, but he needs to at least clear them out of his inbox because the new message notification will irritate him until it’s gone. 

He dials his voicemail, and nervously punches in his password before pressing the phone up to his ear. A sigh of relief escapes him when the first message is just a second of dead air before ending. The second message is less pleasant. 

_“Did you turn off your phone?”_ While his words are not slurred, Michael does sound drunk. Castiel has been around him enough when he’s had too much to drink to recognize the drawl _. “Fine, I don’t want to talk to you either, you little fucker.”_  

There’s more muffled cursing before the call ends. Castiel’s hand is shaking when he lowers the phone from his ear and presses the prompt to delete the message. He stares at the phone in his hand, trying to replay his memory of the night before. He’s pretty sure that all the text messages and voicemails are from after he powered off his phone, but then again he hadn’t looked too closely when he’d ignored his it each time it buzzed. 

But why would Michael yell at him like that and then send him the picture message? 

A chill wraps around his spine and he rubs his hands over his arms where the skin has pebbled up under the sleeves of his shirt. Michael’s never been what he would call sweet or considerate, but he’s never been outright rude to Castiel. 

Then again, Castiel has never ignored him before either. 

He’ll have to call Michael and talk to him. He has a feeling that what he’s starting with Dean is something serious, and he’s not going to mess it up by fooling around with Michael like he’s done in the past. 

Some time in the last few weeks, Castiel’s interest in Michael has waned. In the past, he only dated other men out of mild curiosity, but he always ran back to Michael when he beckoned. But Castiel doesn’t feel that pull inside him to do anything to keep Michael’s attention anymore. 

He would still like to be friends with Michael, since they sometimes spent very enjoyable time together without having sex. But Castiel’s focus is one hundred percent on Dean now, and if Michael can’t handle that, then he’ll break things off completely. 

“You look like you’re thinking awfully hard.” 

Nearly dropping his phone in startlement, Castiel spins to find Dean standing in the office doorway. “Dean? What are you doing here?” 

Dean smiles, and actually glances down at his feet like a bashful little boy. “I was already in the area when I texted you.” He tosses a thumb over his shoulder. “Gabriel let me in when I knocked. Told me you were back here. I hope that’s okay. I don’t want to invade your space or anything.” 

Shaking his head and smiling in an attempt to dispel Dean’s apparent nerves, Castiel steps close to him and leans up to peck him on the lips. Dean responds with a sheepish smile that lights up his eyes. _Damn he’s pretty,_ Castiel thinks. Out loud he says “Of course it’s alright. I’m ready to get out of here as soon as I clean out the registers.” 

A wide grin breaks across Dean’s face. “Do you need a police escort to the bank, Cas?  I can go home and put on the uniform and everything.” 

Castiel reaches up and tugs at the lapel of Dean’s leather jacket. “Honestly, I can’t decide if I want to say yes because you’re so damn hot in your uniform, or no because seeing you in street clothes makes me want to take you home and do unspeakable things to you without getting you completely naked.” 

Dean’s pupils expand, and his breath hitches. His body sways forward into Castiel’s personal space. “What kind of things?” 

Narrowing the gap between them even further, Castiel speaks in a low tone, enjoying the way it makes Dean’s jaw sag a little. “I think I’d put those pretty lips of yours to work.” 

For a split second Castiel worries that he might have been too forward because Dean’s eyes go wide and he sucks in a breath. But before he can take back the words, Dean has caught his hand in his own and tangled their fingers together. With a small tug, he pulls Castiel close enough that their chests bump together. 

“I think I’d let you,” Dean murmurs as he tilts his head down. 

Castiel’s eyes are already slipping shut, and his lips are parting in anticipation of Dean’s kiss. But he forgot his brother is still in the building. 

“Whoa, guys! No hanky panky in the bakery! I’m sure there’s some kind of health code violation you’re about to commit, and I advise against it.” 

Dean jerks away and turns a truly magnificent death glare on the shorter man. Gabriel preens under the look. 

Hoping to avoid anything else Gabriel might do to irritate Dean (or himself), Castiel uses the grip he still has on Dean’s hand to pull him further into the office. He closes the door in Gabriel’s face, and braces his own back against it before pulling Dean against him. 

Dean’s lips crash against his in a hot open-mouthed kiss. 

A thud on the door makes them both jump and break apart. 

Gabriel’s voice is muffled through the wood, but his delight is clear in his tone. “Okay, well if you two are going to defile the office, I’m going to get Alfie out of here before you two scar him for life with your sexy noises.” 

Alfie’s voice comes faintly from further away. “I’ve had sex before Gabe. Quit treating me like I’m ten.” 

“You’ve had what? Does your mother know?” Gabriel’s voice moves further away as he starts picking on Alfie, and Castiel makes a mental note to reward his cousin for distracting Gabriel. 

Dean is grinning down at him. "Were we about to defile the office?" 

Castiel's eyes drift to the desk. It's tiny and most of the surface is taken up by a computer and a stack of mail, so sex on top of it is out of the question. He's not going to break his only computer by sweeping it off the desk like something out of a bad rom-com. But he could bend Dean over it... 

His brain screeches to a halt right there. He doubts Dean will be ready for that for a while. But the desk chair holds a few promising possibilities... 

Dean throws his head back and laughs. It's a rich sound, full of joy, and Castiel falls a little bit in love with it. "Oh my God," Dean wheezes. “You're really considering it!" 

Turning his attention back to the taller man, Castiel smirks. "Of course." 

That earns him another full bodied laugh and a kiss that is far too quick for Castiel. He's frustrated that Dean pulls away almost immediately, but feels much better when he hears Dean's next suggestion. "How about we take this to your place where we'll know for sure your brother won't be spying on us." 

Castiel can't argue with Dean's logic, so he doesn't even try. Instead he nods and opens the office door. 

Gabriel glances up from where he's helping Alfie put away the last few clean pans. "Don't worry about the register Cassie. I'll get it and lock up for the night." He winks and throws an arm around Alfie's shoulders, making the boy squawk as he's awkwardly pulled into Gabriel's side. "The kiddo and I got this, right?" 

That last is directed at Alfie who rolls his eyes and squirms in an attempt to get free. It's a futile effort because Gabriel is a lot stronger than he looks. After a moment he resigns himself to the embrace and nods his agreement. "Yeah we're cool Cassie. See you Monday." 

Habit almost makes Castiel ask if they're sure, but the feel of Dean's hands settling low on his back changes his mind. So he thanks them and gets the hell out of there quickly before they can change their minds. Normally if they open the shop for him, he closes by himself, so he recognizes their generosity. He'll need to do something to make it up to them. 

The drive home is short of course, but it's cold enough that Castiel appreciates the heated interior of Dean's car. "I miss my trench coat," he laments as he lets them into his apartment. 

Dean makes a sympathetic sound as he removes his own jacket after closing the door behind himself. "You don't think it can be repaired?" 

The coat in question is still hanging from one of the hooks next to the door. Castiel fingers the ruined sleeve. "I'm afraid I have no skill with a needle. And it's stained with blood now." 

Strong arms come around him from behind, Dean's leather jacket still clasped in one of his hands. He rests his chin on Castiel's shoulder and murmurs "I'm sorry, Cas." 

The warm brush of Dean's breath against his ear makes Castiel shiver. He smiles and leans back into the embrace. "Thank you, Dean." 

Dean presses a kiss against his shoulder before releasing him and moving away enough to hang up his jacket. "Well don't get rid of it yet. Maybe you'll find someone to repair it." 

Castiel isn't sure how to react to the casual affection Dean is showing him. It's been so long since he's been the recipient of that kind of behavior that it feels alien. Good, though. He certainly doesn't want it to stop. But he's more familiar with sexual advances and better at accepting them. It's a little depressing to think about actually, so he tries not to. 

"I will do that," he murmurs quietly. He starts to move away, trying to ignore the butterflies Dean's nearness is giving him. "I'm going to get changed before I start the pizza. I smell like a bakery." 

"Like that's a bad thing. You smell like dessert," Dean teases. 

Castiel can't help himself. He tosses a grin over his shoulder as he slips out of Dean's reach to walk to his room. "Maybe I'll let you have a taste of me after dinner then." 

Dean groans. "Damn it, Cas. Don't tempt me." 

Castiel scoffs. "That wouldn't be any fun." He laughs at Dean's pained expression and ducks into his room. He changes into a pair of soft lounge pants and grabs the first clean t-shirt from his wardrobe to pull over his head. 

He'll still smell like flour until he takes a shower, but he's aware that Dean can't stay late so he doesn’t think it will be a good idea to get naked while Dean is there. He'd love to fool around of course, but he promised dinner and he's going to deliver. 

Dean is settled on the couch fiddling with the TV remote when Castiel emerges. He's figured it out and switched the channel so they'll be ready when Doctor Sexy comes on. Dean gets up from the couch when he sees Castiel. "Can I help with dinner?" 

"Of course." Castiel beckons him into the kitchen after him. He turns on the oven before digging through the fridge for ingredients. He sets down several types of cheese on the counter and gets out a cheese grater. “We’ll need a cup of each of these. I’ll work on the dough and sauce, if you’ll shred the cheese.” 

Dean settles in next to him and starts working. While they cook they talk about their days, Castiel thanking the Fates that Gabriel didn’t have time to tease him much, and Dean gets on the subject of his comic. His whole body is animated with excited energy while he talks about it, telling Castiel a few of the shorter stories and how he’s been recreating the older parts of it on his computer. 

He’s beautiful like this, and Castiel has to add “ _enthusiastic about the things he loves_ ” to his list of what he’s now calling Reasons Why He’s Going To Fall In Love With Dean. There’s no question that it will happen if he lets it. 

He can’t think of a reason why he shouldn’t. 

Dean complains a little that Castiel is feeding him a plain cheese pizza, which nearly gets him banned from the kitchen. It’s not _plain_ , and Castiel works the angry chef angle until Dean pouts and starts pressing apologetic kisses to his face. Castiel pretends that his forgiveness is grudgingly given, which leads to a few more kisses. 

“ _Affectionate_ ” gets added to the list after the pizza is put in the oven and Dean pulls him into a hug and nuzzles his cheek while thanking him for making dinner. Castiel is still waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Dean to panic about dating a man, but so far Dean seems to be throwing himself into this thing wholeheartedly. And that includes a lot of touching, something Castiel didn’t know he was starved for until now. 

The pizza finishes baking halfway through Doctor Sexy. They were cuddled up on the couch, but when Castiel brings the pizza out on plates, Dean slides onto the floor and sits at the coffee table. Castiel is unwilling to deal with his ass falling asleep, so he doesn’t join him on the floor. Instead he sits on the couch behind him. Dean leans back and rests his shoulders between Castiel’s knees while they watch the rest of the episode. 

“How’s the pizza?” Castiel murmurs during a commercial break. He’s trying to keep his amusement in check, but Dean just finished a third slice, so obviously _plain cheese pizza_ is good enough for him. 

“Shut up, dick,” Dean mumbles after grabbing a fourth slice. “You know it’s good.” 

Castiel chuckles and reaches forward to run his fingers through Dean’s spiky hair. Dean arches into it, so Castiel keeps up the gentle petting. 

“I cannot believe she’s still not over that asshole,” Dean grunts as the show ends. “He doesn’t even appreciate her.” 

Castiel adds “ _good sense_ ” to his list. “You know they’re going to drag the drama out for ratings.” 

Dean grunts his annoyance and leans his head back, looking at Castiel upside down. “I’m still going to bitch about it though.” 

They stay like that as the news comes on. Dean with his eyes drooping shut while Castiel runs gentle fingers through his hair and traces random patterns on his face. 

“What time do you need to leave?” Castiel eventually asks. 

Dean sucks in a deep breath and lets it out in a huffing sigh. “Soon.” 

“I’d like to do this again,” Castiel murmurs as he leans down and presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead. 

“Me too.” 

“When?” 

Dean’s forehead creases under Castiel’s lips as he grimaces. “I’m working all week. Benny and I are patrolling on Thanksgiving this year. Other than a few hours after work, I’m going to be pretty busy.” 

“You won’t be spending time with your family?” Castiel’s hands move down and start massaging the back of Dean’s neck and shoulders. 

“No, and it sucks.” Dean’s words are slightly slurred as he relaxes under Castiel’s touch. “But I get Christmas off this year. Unless shit hits the fan and they need all hands on deck.” 

Castiel hums an acknowledgement and continues to work his fingers into Dean’s muscles. The evening news is a soft hum in the background, some fluff story about a local children’s choir singing at a retirement home. 

“I like this,” Dean says a few minutes later. 

“The massage?” 

Instead of answering, Dean sits up and turns until he’s kneeling between Castiel’s feet. He braces his hands on Castiel’s knees, and looks down at them instead of meeting Castiel’s eyes. “No, I mean this. Dinner and crappy TV and just being together. I like it.” 

Unsure where this is going, Castiel hesitates before resting his hands over Dean’s. “I do too.” 

Dean takes another deep breath, but he seems to be tensing up, all the muscles that had just been putty under Castiel’s hands tightening up in hard lines. He glances up at Castiel, but quickly looks away again. “I uh… want to do other things too, though.” 

Tilting his head, Castiel tries to catch Dean’s eyes, but the other man resolutely keeps them averted.  “What other things, Dean?” 

Instead of answering, Dean surges forward suddenly. His large hands cup Castiel’s face, and while their strength is obvious, their grip is gentle. Dean’s green eyes have darkened, and he’s staring intently at Castiel’s mouth. “This,” he hisses just before closing the space between them and nudging Castiel’s lips apart with his own. 

Castiel moans into the kiss and scoots forward on the couch until Dean’s belly is pressed against his crotch, and their chests are bumping together with every breath. They explore each other’s mouths for several minutes, and Castiel feels all the blood drain drop by drop out of his brain. It has a far more important place to be. 

He grunts in displeasure when Dean pulls away. At some point his hands had buried themselves in Dean’s hair and he tries to use that grip to pull him back but Dean resists. “Dean,” he growls in protest. 

The bastard laughs quietly at him. “Fuck you’re hot,” Dean breathes against his lips. “And I want to… to…” he trails off uncertainly. 

That gets Castiel’s attention. _This is it,_ he thinks. _This is the part where Dean tells me that he wants to go further, but he can’t._ The thought puts a damper on his arousal, and he leans back so he can get a closer look at Dean’s expression. “It’s okay, Dean. I told you we’ll move at your pace,” he says soothingly, even though his whole body is screaming _NO IT ISN’T WHY ARE YOU TELLING HIM THESE LIES?_  

Dean leans in and nips at his lips. “I want to try sucking you off,” he murmurs between nibbling kisses. 

This must be what a near death experience feels like. Castiel’s vision blurs, narrowing down to a thin tunnel. Everything inside his mind has gone dead silent, and he’s not sure his heart is beating anymore. 

Castiel blinks hard and forces himself to focus. “What?” 

Dean smirks like he knows that Castiel’s brain had checked out for a moment. His hands slide up Castiel’s thighs from where they were still resting on his knees. His thumbs run along the inseam of his lounge pants for a moment before detouring and coming to rest in the curve of his hips, just inches from where the cloth is tenting up with Castiel’s excitement. “Can I try sucking your cock, Cas?” 

Like he might say no? He’s so turned on right now he’s forgotten how to even form the word yes, so he just nods. 

Dean’s slow smile makes Castiel almost nervous, and he swallows a few times to get enough moisture in his mouth to force out the words. “Do you want to go to the bedroom, or-?” 

“Here’s good,” Dean says. All signs of nervousness are gone now, and he’s looking at Castiel like he’s a delicious pie he’s about to savor. His fingers move again, hooking into the waistband of Castiel’s pants. He stops though, and lifts one eyebrow in question. 

Unable to answer, Castiel lifts his hips a little. Dean understands, and in a slow motion pulls the cloth down. It catches on Castiel’s dick, which bobs wildly once it pops free. They both go still, Castiel afraid to do anything to end the moment too quickly, and Dean staring down at him with an unreadable expression. 

Castiel is about to tell him never mind, he doesn’t need to go any further, but then Dean’s hand comes up and wraps around him. His hips buck up, seeking friction, and Dean’s lips quirk up in a pleased smirk. And then he’s leaning down and oh… _oh_ … 

Dean starts out slow, running his tongue over the head of Castiel’s dick. It’s nothing unusual or spectacular, but Castiel has to dig his fingers into the couch cushion in order to control himself and not thrust up into Dean’s mouth for just a little extra warm heat. Because he’s already that close to the edge. 

He wasn’t expecting Dean to want to try this anytime soon, much less right away. When he’d started fooling around with men as a teenager, it had taken him a while before he’d been comfortable enough to try giving head, so he was impressed with Dean’s bravery. Mentally he puts stars and exclamation points around “ _open to sex acts he hasn't experienced yet_ ” on his list of things he likes about Dean. 

Dean’s a little clumsy when he takes Castiel in his mouth and starts to suck and lick, but Castiel whispers a reminder to him about where he’s most sensitive. It only takes a few minutes before Dean is going down on him like he’s been doing it for years. Castiel cups a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, not guiding him or holding him, but just encouraging him with the touch. 

When Dean moans around the head of his dick and tightens his fist around the shaft, Castiel’s stomach muscles clench, forcing him to curl over Dean as his orgasm crests. He tries to warn him, because coming in someone’s mouth for the first time without their permission is really fucking rude. “Dean I’m com-” 

He breaks off with a gasp as Dean’s mouth leaves him, and he gets an up close view of his come splattering across Dean’s lips and cheek. Dean’s jaw is slack, his lips red and slick with spit and come, and his eyes, God, his fucking eyes. Only a thin ring of green is visible around the pupils, and he looks as dazed as Castiel feels. The pink tip of his tongue flicks out to catch some of Castiel’s come, and his eyes widen further. 

Castiel’s control snaps and he shoves the coffee table out of the way before sliding off the couch and taking Dean down to the floor, crouching over him almost possessively. He kisses him deeply, tasting himself and Dean and feeling completely alpha male over the idea that he’s basically marked his territory. 

Dean arches under him, grinding his hard length against Castiel’s belly. 

Feeling guilty because Dean’s dick is still trapped in his jeans, Castiel fumbles at the fastening to free him. He releases Dean’s lips and stares down at him while he strokes him. Dean’s beautiful features are etched with desperation, and with stripes of come still smeared over his chin and cheek, he looks utterly debauched. 

“Fuck, Cas, _fuck_.” And Castiel’s palm is suddenly slick with Dean’s release. 

_Yes_ , Castiel thinks as he watches Dean come apart under him, _I am completely fucked._  

It’s some time later before they make it up off the floor and into the bathroom to clean up. Castiel insists on cleaning Dean’s face and stomach with a warm washcloth. Dean rolls his eyes, but holds still under Castiel’s ministrations. They don’t speak, but they touch a lot, and pull each other close for chaste kisses. 

Finally, when Castiel throws the washcloth into the tub, Dean sighs. “I gotta go, Cas. I didn’t mean to stay this late.” 

Disappointment stabs through Castiel, but he nods his understanding. “When will I see you again?” he asks quietly. 

Dean grins, and rubs a hand up and down Castiel’s arm in a soothing gesture. “Probably in the morning. I have a feeling I’m going to be craving donuts.” 

Castiel returns his smile and leans into him.  “Awesome.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was the chapter that didn't want to end. Worth it tho :D


	15. Chapter 15

**_Sunday_ **

 

_shit I forgot u close on Sunday :(_  

Castiel laughs when he receives Dean's message. He can't help picturing Dean sitting in front of Heavenly Delights looking like a disappointed puppy. He's grinning when he taps out a reply. _I'm  sorry, I forgot as well._  

_how do u forget about ur own shop?_  

How indeed. _How did you put it? "You sucked my brain out through my dick"?_  

_nice ok I forgive u_  

Castiel chews his bottom lip as he considers what to type next. He's seen Dean every day since he was mugged, yet he doesn’t feel like it has been enough. However he's afraid Dean may get burned out from seeing him all the time so he hesitates. 

But Dean wanted to see him today, right? That was why he stopped at the bakery. 

Hoping he's not making the wrong decision, he types out a reply and quickly sends it before he can change his mind. _If you come by my place when you get off work I'll make it up to you with pie._  

_I'll be there around 7_  

That night they eventually get around to eating the pie, but not until Castiel spends an hour using his mouth and fingers to help Dean work up an appetite.

 

**_Monday_ **

 

Dean's day started out pretty fantastic. Castiel wore him out on Sunday night so he slept like the dead once he got home. As a result he woke up well rested and in a really good mood. Also a little sore when he sits down because Castiel has thick fingers, but every little twinge he feels when he moves is the good kind that reminds him how much fun he had the night before. 

Benny notices of course, but other than a knowing smirk he keeps his mouth shut. Being teased about his love life might not put a dent in his mood because he feels fucking great but Dean appreciates Benny’s silence nonetheless. 

Unfortunately the universe conspires to ruin his day. First he has to rescue a woman from her husband's temper and then she spends twenty minutes screaming bloody murder at him for arresting the bastard. Then they answer a call about a shooting in what is usually a peaceful area of the city. By the time they get there, the shooter is gone and Dean watches the victim bleed out before the EMTs are even out of the ambulance. 

It always fucks with his head when he can't do his job and maintain the peace. He knows that sometimes it isn't his fault, but that logic never quite reaches his heart. After one look at him Captain Singer gives him a choice between having a session with the department's shrink Dr. Barnes, or getting the hell out of the station and using a little bit of the vacation time he's been building up for far too long. Since he'd rather chew off his own arm than talk about his feelings with the Doc, even if he does really like her as a person, he takes option two. 

He changes into street clothes before leaving and gets in Baby with the intention of picking a direction and driving for a few hours until the voices in his head telling him what a failure he is are drowned under the roar of the Impala's engine. But it's not long before he finds himself parked in front of Heavenly Delights. 

Castiel shouldn't have to deal with Dean's issues. It's completely unfair of him to want a little comfort from the other man, but Dean has it stuck in his head that Castiel can make everything is okay for a little while. It's ridiculous. Hugs don't fix shit. 

He's reaching for the keys to start the car again when the bakery door swings open and Castiel walks outside. Dean sighs, unsure if it's resignation or relief or some strange combination of both that he feels at the sight of the other man. He rolls down the window and forces a smile. "Hey Cas." 

When he gets close enough to see Dean more clearly Castiel's welcoming smile droops a little and worry widens his eyes. "Dean? I thought you were working today. Is something wrong?" 

Dean runs a hand through his hair and looks away. "I was. The Captain made me take off early." 

Castiel reaches through the open window and touches Dean's shoulder, which instantly relaxes him.  "Did something happen?" 

Bile rises in Dean's throat. Apparently talking about his failures with Castiel is going to be just as difficult as talking to a shrink. It's almost a relief to know he's still a messed up head case and the last few days haven’t changed him. Because he’s certainly beginning to feel different. "It was a bad day," he answers simply. 

Castiel looks like he desperately wants to ask questions, but to Dean's relief he doesn't. After a moment, when Dean doesn't elaborate, he nods. A small smile curves his lips. "What are you planning on doing for the rest of the afternoon?" 

Anything but go home where he'll be alone with his thoughts. "I have no plans," he answers with a shrug. 

"Can I put you to work?" Castiel asks. "We're swamped with requests for pies for Thanksgiving, and we could use an extra pair of hands." 

Dean blinks. He's probably not as good at baking as Castiel, but he can do pie. He locks up Baby and follows Castiel inside the bakery where he’s handed an apron and a hair net, told to wash his hands, and shoved into the kitchen where Alfie is busily chopping a huge pile of apples. 

Alfie smiles shyly at him and asks if he knows how to make pie crust. When Dean assures him he does, and that he’s damn good at it, Alfie shows him where all the ingredients are and puts him to work. 

He doesn’t know how long he spends helping Alfie make pies while Gabriel and Castiel take turns running the cash register and baking the other treats they sell. But by the time Castiel pulls him away from the counter and sits him down at the office desk with a slice of cherry pie, the sun has set, he’s exhausted, but feeling much less like a worthless piece of shit. 

The soft kiss Castiel gives him and the quietly murmured thank you he gets for pitching in definitely helps.  

 

**_Tuesday_ **

 

Castiel is far too busy to miss Dean. His day is occupied by pies, pies, and more pies. He expected the days leading up to Thanksgiving to be busy, but not this busy. Heavenly Delights opened the previous October, and while his store had been full that Thanksgiving it was nothing like this year. 

On the one hand, he’s glad word has gotten out about his bakery. What small business owner doesn’t want this kind of success? On the other, he’s working later than usual and bemoaning the fact that he only has two employees. 

He does find himself wishing occasionally that Dean could come by and help again. Watching his Hot Cop moving around in the kitchen with Alfie and Gabriel had lengthened his Reasons He Will Fall In Love With Dean List by adding “ _hard working_ ” and “ _gets along with my family_ ”. 

Castiel may be far too busy to miss Dean, but he does anyway. 

When he finally finishes for the day he’s exhausted, sore, and feeling melancholy. He sends his brother and his cousin home, and settles down at his desk to go over his finances. The bookkeeping needs to be taken care of anyway, but he’s double checking the numbers to make sure he really can afford another employee. Gabriel has no problem taking whatever hours Castiel asks him to work, but Alfie is in college and can only work part time. The bakery needs an extra pair of hands. 

Almost an hour into the project, he gets a text message. He rubs his eyes absently and picks up his phone. The message waiting for him burns away his gloomy mood. 

_Gabe says ur working 2 hard and need 2 be rescued_  

Castiel quickly types a reply. _I believe he may be correct in his assessment._  

_Come outside_  

Saving his work and closing down the computer takes only a few minutes. Castiel shoves his phone in his pocket, grabs his jacket (he still hasn’t replaced or repaired his trench coat), and heads outside. 

The Impala is parked across the street, and Dean is leaning against it, waiting for Castiel. He’s still dressed for work, although he’s not wearing his weapon belt, and he’s got his leather jacket on over his uniform. He grins when he sees Castiel, and lifts a greasy paper bag. “How ‘bout a ride home and a heart attack for dinner?” 

Castiel adds “ _ridiculously thoughtful_ ” and “ _impeccable timing_ ” to The List. 

 

**_Wednesday_ **

 

The line has been out the door most of the day, but finally the front of the store is empty and Castiel has a moment to breath. He slumps over the counter and rests his face on his arms. 

“You know you could have avoided this if your recipes weren’t so good,” Gabriel says as he saunters out of the kitchen. 

Castiel only grunts. It may or may not be agreement. He’s not sure. 

They’re silent for a moment, resting while they can. Alfie is in the kitchen, humming to himself, and Castiel makes the kid a mental promise to give him as much time off as he needs next week. His cousin worked a full time shift every day so far this week, against his mother’s wishes, and Castiel appreciates him so much right now that he’d go hug him if it didn’t take so much energy to even stand right now. 

“We’re not opening on Friday,” he mumbles into his arms. “Make a sign or something.” 

“You’re the boss,” Gabriel says cheerfully before disappearing, probably heading for the office to make the suggested sign. 

“Add Saturday to the sign!” Castiel calls after him. They could all use a long weekend. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he reaches for it without lifting his head from the counter. He only turns his head enough to peek at the screen. 

_work sucks i vote 4 abolishing it_  

Castiel laughs and stands up straight so he can properly type out a reply. _Dean Winchester for President._  

The response comes a few minutes later. _Cas 4 presidential consort ;-)_  

It’s probably the dumbest flirtation he’s ever seen, but it leaves a smile on Castiel’s face for the rest of the day. 

 

**_Thursday_ **

 

Dean hates holidays. They’re worse than the full moon for bringing out the crazies. 

Okay, so he doesn’t really hate them, but he sure as hell hates working on them. He knew what he was getting into when he decided to become a cop though. A lifetime of making holidays special for Sam because Dad had to work taught him that lesson long before he joined the force. Having seniority doesn’t mean he can get out of working holidays. It only means he gets dibs on which ones he prefers to work and have off. 

At least he’s not the only Winchester at work today. John is on duty as well, although more from choice since he’s a detective and they can sort of make their own hours. Dean hasn’t see him much though since he’s been out with Benny on calls most of the day. 

He’s just finished booking a drunk asshole who thought it was okay to smack his wife around for making the turkey a little too dry, and he’s making his way to the station’s break room. There is turkey sandwich with his name on it, and he’s intent on getting to it before his stomach decides to wrap around his spine and start digesting it. He’s got a few minutes before he and Benny go on patrol again and he’s going to use it to stuff his face. 

“Hello beautiful,” he murmurs as he pulls the huge sandwich out of the break room fridge. He unwraps it quickly and grabs a few packets of mayo and mustard from a drawer under the coffee maker then takes his prize over to the rickety table in the center of the room. Preparing the sandwich with condiments is the work of seconds, and then he’s biting into soft sourdough bread filled with several layers of meat and cheese. 

The bread is from a loaf he purchased from Castiel’s bakery and it’s fucking divine. It makes him smile to think of his sexy baker and makes the sandwich that much more delicious. 

His phone buzzes and he pulls it from his pocket. 

_I hope you get a little enjoyment out of your Thanksgiving even though you’re working._  

Speak of the Devil. Dean sits back in his chair and carefully types out a message. Holding the phone one handed and typing with his thumb was easier before he switched to a touch screen phone. Sam has been telling him to get the Swype app for a while, but Dean is too lazy to figure out how to use it. 

_Better now :-)_  

And it’s the truth. Seeing Castiel’s name flash across his screen immediately melts his irritation. Yeah, people are crazy and holidays make them worse, but Dean’s job keeps his family and people like Castiel safe. 

He takes another bite of his sandwich and sends another message. _hows ur thanksgiving?_  

_I am having dinner with my very judgmental mother and self righteous father. What do you think?_  

Dean laughs and shakes his head. Castiel rarely talks about his family other than Gabriel and Alfie and the stray comment about an older sister named Anna and another older brother named Zachariah. But he’s said enough that Dean has figured out that his relationship with his family is strained. 

He’s about to send a reply to the message when the break room door opens. Dean looks up and sees his dad, and some of his humor fades. “Hey, Dad.” 

John gives him a smile as he makes his way to the coffee machine. “Hey, Champ. Must be a good day if you’ve got time to sit down and eat.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean responds with a chuckle. His dad hasn’t been a beat cop for a long time, but he’s experienced his own share of crazy shit for decades, so if anyone understands it would be John. “But at least it’s not New Years Eve.” 

“No kidding.” John claps a hand on Dean’s shoulder as he moves past him again, this time with a full mug. He settles down in the plastic seat across from him and takes a deep swallow of his coffee, grimacing because it’s probably foul. No one seems to be able to make a decent pot of coffee in this place. 

Dean’s phone buzzes in his hand. His first reaction is to hide it. To slide it in his pocket and pretend he doesn’t care about what the message has to say. Texting with Castiel while John is sitting right there feels weird as fuck. Dean is not anywhere near ready to reveal his fledgling relationship to his dad. Hell, even if he was dating a girl, it would be far too soon. But letting his dad find out he’s dating a guy? Out of the damn question. 

However Dean ignores his instinct and peeks at his screen. Dad doesn’t have to know who he’s texting.

_Gabriel is drunk. I might ask him to share his stash._  

A wide grin breaks over Dean’s face. At least he’s not the only one having a crappy holiday. Despite the fact that his dad is eying him curiously, Dean replies _no drinking and driving or i might have to arrest you._  

_Finally a chance to try out the handcuffs! ;)_  

Dean barks out a laugh before he can help himself. 

“Who’s that?” John asks. 

Dean’s stomach drops straight to the floor. He swallows nervously and hides his phone under the table, but he doesn’t put it away. “Uh… just, uh…” 

John rolls his eyes and waves hand. “Nevermind. I know how you get a bug up your ass over talking about your new girlfriends.” 

“Who says I have a girlfriend?” Dean snaps his mouth shut. _That_ is not the right direction to take this conversation.  Shit. 

“Oh please,” John laughs as he stands. “You’re my kid. You think I don’t know when you’re dating someone? You’ve been walking around on cloud nine for a week. She must be a hot piece of ass to get you so twisted around yourself.” 

Dean bristles. Yeah, Castiel is hot, and yeah they’ve fooled around and it’s been awesome, but it’s not about sex. Dean is thirty years old, and he likes to think he’s grown past pointlessly short flings. He’s ready for something serious, and he wants to try it with Cas. “It’s not like that, Dad.” 

John just shrugs and moves to leave the break room. “Whatever, kiddo. Bring her around for dinner some time if it lasts for more than a couple weeks.” 

When he’s alone in the room, Dean curses. It pisses him off that his dad sees him that way. He had a long term relationship with Lisa didn’t he? It didn’t work out, but they’re still friends, and that’s really important to Dean. 

Part of him is tempted to bring Castiel to dinner just to prove John wrong, but he is not at all ready to come out as… whatever he is. He’ll get there. He has to if he wants things to work out with Castiel because he’s not stupid enough to ignore the fact that whatever relationship they might have will be fucked up beyond repair if Dean hides him. He won’t do that to Cas. 

His phone buzzes again and he checks it immediately. 

_I know it’s only been a few days, but I miss you._  

An idea forms in his head, and it’s fucking crazy. But he’s typing out the reply before his brain can turn against him and tell him all the reasons this is a Bad Idea. 

_sam and jo and i are doing a mini thanksgiving dinner tomorrow cuz i had to work today wanna come over?_  

He chews his bottom lip nervously and stares at the screen after he sends the message. His brain starts in on him after three seconds. _That was dumb, I shouldn’t have done that, oh God, it’s too soon_. A litany of similar thoughts bounce around inside his head and start giving him a headache. _Fuck fuck fuck…_  

His phone buzzes. 

_I’d love to :)_ And then almost immediately another message comes through. _I’ll bring a pie. Do you like pecan?_  

Warmth blooms under Dean’s skin, and he knows he’s suddenly grinning like an idiot. Every ounce of fear and uncertainty melts away, and all he can think is _Damn, I picked a good one_. 

“What’s got you all aflutter?” Benny asks from the doorway. His sly smile says he knows. 

Dean doesn’t bother to dispute Benny’s words. He shrugs and lifts his sandwich. “Just enjoying my turkey dinner.” 

“Uh huh,” Benny deadpans. “Well hurry on up, we gotta get out on patrol again.” 

“Almost done.” Dean takes a huge bite to emphasize his point and grins at Benny with his mouth full. 

Benny rolls his eyes. “Meet you at the car in ten, brother.” 

Chewing quickly, Dean goes back to his phone and types out a message. _pecan pie is the way to my heart. can i come pick you up at noon?_

_Of course. I can’t wait,_ is Castiel’s response. 

Even though Castiel is going to be meeting Sam and Jo tomorrow, Dean can’t wait either. The rest of his Thanksgiving is busy, but knowing he’ll get to see Castiel the next day makes his mood a lot brighter.


	16. Chapter 16

His hands are shaking. They're fucking shaking. And he hasn't even reached Castiel's apartment yet. 

Not for the first time Dean considers backing out and telling Castiel that something came up, dinner's cancelled. Jo’s sick. Sam got called in to work. The apocalypse is starting and Dean needs Castiel’s help to stop it. But he discards the idea just as quickly as he has every time it has popped into his head since he sent the invitation to Castiel the day before. First of all Sam and Jo will kill him. Jo already threatened him with bodily harm if he chickens out, and he believes her. Sam is good at that whole silent guilt trip thing, and the last time Dean did something to earn Sam’s disappointed looks it was horrible and he’d prefer not to repeat the experience any time soon. Second, he wants Castiel to meet them. He wants Castiel to meet his friends. 

He wants to include Castiel in his life in every way possible. 

It's terrifying, hence the tremors. He'd almost rather face down a room full of armed drug dealers than take this next step in his relationship with Castiel. At least then he’ll have some idea of how to go about it. They trained him for that kind of shit in Police Academy. Relationship stuff? He has to figure that out on his own, and if his romantic history is anything to go by, he’s done a shitty job of it so far. 

Jesus, what if he's moving too fast? Will this fuck things up? It took months before he introduced Lisa to his family and friends, and here he is inviting Castiel to a family dinner after only a week. 

Now he's starting to hyperventilate, shit. 

He manages to pull into a parking spot in front of Castiel's apartment and puts his head down on his steering wheel. He forces himself to take deep, even breaths so his heart will slow its panicked fluttering. "What the fuck am I doing?" He groans. 

_Being a fucking moron,_ his brain whispers back to him. 

A knock on the window startles him and he jerks upright to see Castiel standing outside his door. Seeing him loosens some of the anxiety in Dean’s chest and he lets out a long breath. Instead of just rolling down the window, Dean opens the door and gets out of the car. The cold air clears his head a little and he is able to plaster on a genuine smile. "Hey, Cas." 

"Is everything alright?" Castiel asks cautiously. There is a wary look about him that makes Dean feel like a complete heel. His arms are crossed over his chest protectively and he’s standing a little too far away for Dean's liking. 

Knowing that Castiel might need him to be the strong one instantly shuts off Dean’s fight or flight instinct, and he goes into protector mode. 

The distance between them is easy to fix. Dean reaches out and runs his hands down Castiel's arms while also moving into his personal space. He doesn't pull him into a hug like he wants to, but he does cup Castiel's elbows gently to encourage him to stay close. He doesn’t want to talk about his feelings _at all_ , but that is unfair to Cas so he bites the bullet and tells the truth. "I'm nervous as fuck about today." 

Unfortunately, instead of reassuring Castiel, the words drive him back a step and out of Dean’s grip. His expression closes off and he looks away. "It's alright, Dean. We don't have to-" 

Oh hell no, this is not happening. Dean's resolve firms and he grabs Castiel again, pulling him closer this time and cutting him off with a kiss. He doesn't mean for it to be more than a gentle press of their lips, but he catches the sweet scent of pastries and a hint of Castiel's coconut soap and he forgets they're standing out in the open where anyone can get an eyeful of this very public display of affection. He deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue past soft lips and tasting Castiel like he's sampling his favorite treat. 

When he finally comes to his senses and ends the kiss, Castiel blinks up at him with dazed blue eyes. His lips are damp and slightly parted and the sight makes Dean want to kiss him again. But he has a point to make and if he gives into the urge he'll end up dragging Castiel upstairs for some privacy. "I'm nervous," he says gruffly, "but I'm not canceling. I really want you to meet Sam and Jo." 

Castiel's hands, which had curled in tight fists in the front of Dean's jacket, relax and slide up over his shoulders instead. He smiles crookedly. "I may have been looking for an excuse to back out of this. I'm nervous too." 

Dean snorts. He should have known. Castiel always seems confident, but meeting family this soon? Yeah, this probably isn't Dean's brightest idea, but he's committed now. It may make him a giant dick, but knowing Castiel is also spooked about this whole meet the family thing makes him feel a whole lot more relaxed. "Don't worry, they'll love you. Although Jo will probably threaten you. I told Sam to hide all her scary knives." 

That pulls a short burst of laughter from Castiel. "I went to culinary school and worked as a chef for years before I opened my bakery. I am not intimidated by knives." 

The healing gash on Castiel's arm is certainly proof of that. Dean chuckles and shakes his head. "Yeah, you and Jo are totally going to hit it off." He jerks his head forward the Impala. "Ready to go?" 

“Almost. Come upstairs and help me carry down the pies.” 

Dean arches one eyebrow. “Uh, Cas? How many pies did you make?” 

“One for each of us,” Castiel answers as he turns to walk upstairs. 

“I get my own pie?” Dean knows he sounds like an excited five year old, but at the moment he feels like one. He hurries after Castiel, all hints of unease eradicated by his excitement.

 

***

 

Castiel has no idea what to expect from Dean’s family. He knows from conversations with Dean that Sam is a lawyer and freakishly tall and too smart for his own good. Jo is small and feisty and likes knives. That doesn’t seem like much despite the fact that Dean really likes to talk about his family. 

He’s also never met the family of anyone he’s dated before. He blames a lot of that on his nearly decade long infatuation with Michael. Castiel never took any of his relationships very seriously, and he’d certainly never met anyone Michael knew outside of a few business colleagues. 

So to say that he feels like he’s in uncharted territory is a bit of an understatement. He hesitates on the sidewalk leading up to a nice red brick duplex, unsure of himself in a way he’s never experienced before. This is Dean’s family. If they don’t accept Castiel, then Dean may very well decide to end whatever this thing is between them. 

That sets Castiel’s uneasy thoughts off in a different direction. What are they exactly? They’ve only been seeing each other for a week. Yes, they’ve fooled around, but Castiel knows better than anyone that doesn’t even make them fuck buddies. 

Dean notices Castiel isn't right behind him and he stops on the porch and turns to Castiel. He's got a pie balanced on each hand and he's as careful with them as if they were expensive treasures. "C'mon, Cas. My place first so I can put one of these babies away for later." 

Castiel blinks. He thought they were already at his brother's house. And if Dean wants to put away just one of the pies, why did they grab all four? Curiosity gets his feet moving again, and he follows Dean to the door on the right side of the duplex. 

It's a careful balancing act for Dean to get the door unlocked and opened, and Castiel is impressed despite himself. He’d make a great waiter. The thought has him smiling as they walk into the dim interior. Dean leads him to a kitchen, switching the light on with an elbow before setting his burden down on an island in the center. Castiel looks around curiously as he also sets his pies down. The room is spotless, and everything appears to be neatly organized. What he can see of the living room is also neat and orderly. 

Dean is putting two of the pies in the fridge when Castiel's attention lands on him again. "I thought you were only going to save one for yourself," he says with a laugh. 

"Sam's a health nut, and Jo will eat all four if she has access to them. That woman will eat spoonfuls of sugar if we let her. I swear she’s spawning a mini Willy Wonka," Dean replies when he straightens from his task. His grin reminds Castiel of a mischievous five year old. "I'm taking a hit for the team by keeping two of them for myself." 

"What about me? They're my pies," Castiel points out, but he's grinning because Dean's smile is infectious. 

Dean gets up in his personal space, and Castiel sucks in a surprised breath. The taller man smells like leather and cologne and just a hint of something woody. Castiel wants to bury his nose against Dean's skin and breathe him in, but he can't pull away from Dean's green eyed stare. 

"I was kinda hoping you'd want me for dessert," Dean murmurs in a gritty voice that sends sparks of interest fluttering low in Castiel's belly. 

Castiel can't help laughing at the cheesy line. "Oh my God, Dean, really?" 

Unabashed, Dean waggles his eyebrows suggestively. He starts to lean in for a kiss, which Castiel is completely on board for, but a loud banging on the wall in the living room interrupts them.  A woman's voice, loud despite being muffled by the barrier, quickly follows. 

"Dean Winchester, you get your ass over here! I wanna meet your boyfriend like yesterday!" 

Dean winces. "We'd better get over there before she decides to come over and get us." 

Understanding dawns. "You share the duplex with them?" 

Dean pulls away and passes Castiel one of the remaining pies and grabs the other to carry himself. He takes Castiel's free hand and leads him back to the front door. "Yeah, I bought it when Sam was still in college so he and Jo would have their own place but wouldn't have to deal with shitty rent rates until they could afford a place of  their own. But they stuck around. I guess I make a good neighbor." 

His explanation ends as the door leading to Sam and Jo's side of the duplex opens. A small, angry looking blonde woman is standing there in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, arms akimbo. Her belly has a very distinct outward curve, and she has that beautiful glow that all women get during a healthy pregnancy. 

"Like hell you do. We only keep you around because you fix the plumbing for free," she says to Dean. Her glare turns suspicious when she turns her attention to Castiel. "Is this him?" 

Dean rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a fond smile playing around the edges of his lips. "Turn down the guard dog vibes, Princess. I don't need you protecting me." 

She makes a little hmf noise and leans into Dean for a hug, ignoring the fact that he has a pie in one hand and Castiel's in the other so he can't return the gesture. Dean's fingers tighten and refuse to let him pull away, and Castiel is secretly pleased by the action, as well as the fact that Dean didn't dispute the term "boyfriend" a few minutes ago. 

Jo looks more welcoming when she lets go of Dean and turns her attention to Castiel. She eyes him up and down before smirking at him. "I can see why he likes you. You're totally Dean's type." She grabs the pie he's holding and flashes him a toothy smile. "Make yourself at home," she calls over her shoulder as she heads for the kitchen. "Sam's walking the dog. He'll be back in a few minutes." 

Dean looks down at Castiel and his nose wrinkles into a grimace that conveys annoyance and fond pride. "So... that's Jo." 

"Get your ass in here and help me cook, Dean-o!" Jo yells from the kitchen. 

Dean winces but moves to do as he's told, pulling Castiel along with him, only letting him go once they're all in the same room. Castiel listens with amusement as Jo starts ordering him around. 

Dean is doing all the work, pulling Tupperware out of the fridge and dishes out of the cupboards, so Jo sidles up to Castiel.  "So this is the part where I threaten your life of you hurt him," she murmurs in an aside while she plunks down a bag of potatoes on the kitchen island in front of Castiel. 

"Jo I'm right here," Dean points out without even looking at her, as if he expected this very thing. 

"Shut up, Dean. Your warning comes next so wait your turn." 

Castiel grins, his heart warmed by Jo's protective nature. 

A paring knife appears like magic in her hand and she points it at Castiel's nose. "Dean deserves the best, you got it?" When he nods his agreement, she smiles warmly and flips the knife around, offering it to him by the handle. "And so do you. Don't let him be a dick to you. Now make yourself useful and peel some potatoes." 

Castiel accepts the knife and spins it in a small flourish, which makes Jo light up with glee. She then proceeds to boss them both around. 

Sam shows up with a beautiful golden retriever introduced as Bones fifteen minutes later. He's effusive with his greeting, obviously happy to meet Castiel. He tries to take over potato duty, insisting that Castiel is a guest and shouldn't be expected to help, but Castiel is enjoying being part of the kitchen hubbub and refuses. Dean recruits Sam for green bean duty instead. 

Conversation flows easily as the four of them (well, three, with Jo giving orders), work together to make a meal of Leftover Casserole, mashed potatoes, and fruit salad. Sam and Jo both pepper Castiel with questions, about his bakery and his family, and freely answer his questions as well. 

There is teasing and laughter and at no point do any of them make Castiel feel like an outsider. 

By the time they sit down to eat, with a warning from Sam not to give in to Bones' sad face if he begs for food, all traces of Castiel's earlier jitters have faded away completely. Dean's family seems to have adopted him as one of their own. He realizes there are more people in Dean's life he still has to meet, but Sam and Jo's acceptance is a good start. This is probably just as strange for them as it is for Dean and Castiel. Not only is Castiel a new person in their brother's life, but until recently they must have thought Dean was straight. 

The enormity of that thought strikes him mute for a few minutes while the conversation continues to flow around him unheeded. His own experience with coming out to his family had not been so smooth, and he envies Dean a little that Sam and Jo have so easily accepted him the way he is. But he is also grateful to them. If things continue to progress between him and Dean as they have been, it's comforting to know that he'll have Sam and Jo as friends as well. 

Dean must sense something is off because he turns a questioning look at Castiel. Under the table his hand comes to rest on Castiel's knee and he squeezes gently as he leans close. "Everything okay?" 

Castiel takes Dean's hand in his own and gives him a warm smile. "I like your family, Dean." 

Even white teeth flash in a pleased grin. Dean leans close enough that his breath brushes over Castiel's cheek. "We like you too, Cas." 

Castiel holds Dean's gaze, trying to convey what words can’t. "I really like you." 

Pink tinges Dean's cheeks, making his freckles stand out. "Yeah?" 

"Hey, enough with the eye sex, guys," Sam teases from across the table, causing Dean and Castiel to jolt apart. "There's a lady present." 

Jo reaches out and pats Sam on the shoulder. "Don't worry babe, I'll send 'em home before they do anything too shocking for your delicate sensibilities." 

And just like that, the laughter is back. 

Dean holds his hand under the table for the rest of the meal. 

 

***

 

Things are going so well, Dean almost doesn't trust it. Sam and Jo love Castiel, and he's getting along great with them as well. He thought it would feel weird to bring a date to Black Friday Lunch with his family, but he's pleased to find that Castiel blends right in with them without even a single awkward moment. 

After everyone has eaten and has settled in the living room while they wait for the pies to warm up in the oven, Dean finally starts to relax.  Really, he should know better. 

Bones perks up and let's out a soft bark seconds before there's a knock at the door. Sam frowns and looks at Jo in question. Through a short and silent exchange she indicates that she doesn't know who it is either. Sam gets up to answer it, Bones right on his heels and wagging his tail as if he's excited for whoever it is. Dean understands why as soon as Sam opens the door. "Dad... hey. We weren't expecting you." 

Dean's whole body seizes as panic floods his system. He yanks his hand away from where it has been resting on Castiel's knee and he puts a little more space between them on the couch. He shoots a quick glance at Castiel and grimaces at the confused hurt he sees on the other man's face. Dean shakes his head slightly and hopes Castiel will understand. 

He's not prepared to come out to John, especially not like this. 

Castiel purses his lips, but he nods and Dean lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. God, he’s such an asshole, but he’s not ready. _He’s not ready._  

“I finished the crib, and figured I’d bring it by,” John says as Sam let’s him into the house. His face lights up when Bones starts bouncing around his feet whining for attention and he bends over to ruffle the fur around the dog’s ears. “Hey, buddy! You excited to have a rugrat around the house, huh?” 

Sam casts a worried glance over his shoulder and Dean shrugs a little. In the way of close siblings, the simple actions convey a whole conversation. 

_Shit, I didn’t know he was coming._  

_Nothing we can do about it now, Sammy. Keep your mouth shut._  

A glance at Jo tells him that she also got the message. It’s a little bit of a struggle for her to get to her feet, but she does, approaching John with arms held out for a hug. 

John wraps her up in a tight embrace and then pushes her out to arm’s length so he can get a look at her. “That kiddo is getting pretty big, isn’t he?” 

Sam rolls his eyes and shuts the door. “We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet, Dad.” 

John shrugs and grins at Sam. “Lots of boys in the Winchester line, you know.” He ignores his youngest son’s protests and turns to see Dean and Castiel sitting on the couch. He eyes Castiel curiously, but doesn’t seem to catch on to any of the tension in the room. “Hey Dean-o.” 

“Hey, Dad.” Dean stands and approaches his dad for the typical short hug with the pounding backslap that they usually exchange. When it ends, he turns slightly and lifts a hand in Castiel’s direction. “This is my friend Cas. Cas, this is our dad, John.” 

Castiel stood at the same time Dean did, and seems confident when he holds out a hand to John. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Dean promises himself right then and there that he’s going to make this up to Castiel in any way possible. 

John accepts Castiel’s handshake. “You too, Cas. How do you know my boys?” 

The question sounds friendly enough, but Dean stiffens because he recognizes the edge in his father’s voice. John has no reason to trust Castiel, but the fact that he’s gone all hardass detective on him pisses Dean off. He cuts in, letting John hear his irritation. “Cas owns the bakery where I get all those specialty donuts and muffins.” 

His sharp tone isn’t missed, and John casts him a quelling glare.  He’s never been one to put up with lip from either boy, but especially Dean. But he’s a little more friendly when he turns back to Castiel. “Oh yeah? I really like those Coca-Cola muffins.” 

Castiel smiles and shrugs a little. “It was a stray idea that didn’t turn into a complete disaster, unlike a lot of my experiments.” 

John throws his head back and laughs. He gives Castiel a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t doubt it. My wife used to make me eat a lot of failed experiments. I swear she did it as punishment sometimes, but I could never figure out what I did wrong.” 

They’re interrupted when the oven timer goes off. Dean latches onto Castiel and drags him toward the kitchen. “Speaking of Castiel’s bakery, there’s a couple pies in the oven we need to take care of.” 

Once they’re in the other room, Dean drops Castiel’s wrist and turns to face him. He feels like such a piece of shit that he can’t even meet his eyes. He keeps his voice low so it won’t carry into the living room. “Fuck, Cas, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going to show up.” 

“Dean.” 

Ignoring him, Dean grabs the oven mitts and starts pulling out the pies. “I’m not ready to tell him yet. You gotta understand, he’s not a bad guy, he’s just-” He cuts off and sucks a breath in through his nose. He’s just what? A jerk? A homophobic asshole? Yeah, that won’t make him sound like a _bad_ _guy_ at all. 

“Dean.” Castiel puts a hand on Dean’s arm, and steps close. 

Dean can feel sharp blue eyes on the side of his face, but still refuses to look at him. This is it. He’s screwing everything up already. He should have known that things were going too well. His shoulders slump, and after he’s set down the second pie, he braces his hands on the edge of the stove. “I get it if you don’t want to date anymore, Cas. You deserve-” 

“ _Dean_.” This time there is an edge to Castiel’s voice, and Dean finally looks up. He’s surprised to see that Castiel doesn’t look upset. Once he’s got Dean’s attention, Castiel smiles and runs a hand up and down Dean’s arm in a soothing gesture. “I understand. We don’t have to tell him anything about us. When he’s around we’ll just be friends.” 

Dean straightens and stares at Castiel in shock. “Really? You would do that?” 

The calm mask slips a little and Castiel glances away. “Don’t get me wrong, Dean. I would prefer not to hide.” He looks up again, and Dean is struck again by how beautiful this man is. Dark lashes and laugh lines frame bright blue eyes, and pink lips surrounded by a darkening shadow of stubble nearly distract him from Castiel’s next words. “But if anyone knows how you feel, it’s me. Coming out to my family was difficult. If you need more time, then take it.” 

Dean bites his bottom lip and glances out the kitchen doorway. He can see Jo and Sam’s backs where they’re still standing talking to John. He could very easily lean forward and kiss Castiel right now, but the thin sliver of chance that his dad might see them holds him back. 

“Thanks, Cas,” he manages to croak out. His vision blurs a little and he blinks away what he will hotly deny are tears if Castiel says anything. 

Castiel squeezes his arm, before dropping his hand and turning to the knife block to pull out a sharp and shiny blade. He spins it in his hand in a wicked flourish, and grins at Dean’s cautious look before pulling one of the pies closer and cutting into it. “You’ll just have to make it up to me.” 

Dean relaxes, and he smiles, feeling shy all of a sudden. “Yeah, Cas. I can do that.” 

“Good.” Castiel finishes slicing the pie and gestures to Dean with the knife. “Get plates. Do you think your dad will want some?” 

Dean isn’t sure, but he thinks that he might be falling a little bit in love right then. He does as he’s told, grabbing an extra plate for John. “Hell yeah he will.” 

Between the two of them they fill five plates with large slices of warm pecan pie and cover them with generous helpings of whip cream they made earlier. After checking to make sure the coast is clear, Dean leans over and pecks Castiel on the cheek in a silent thank you before carrying a couple plates out of the kitchen. “I hope y’all have room for pie!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may take a few days off writing. my brain is kinda tired.
> 
> or tomorrow i may wake up and feel 100% again, who knows. right at this very moment, my brain is tired tho.
> 
> also, if you see a weird word and think "uh, that totally doesn't work? what is this random word?" blame swype. i typed up most of this chapter using swype on my smartphone, and i don't always notice when it uses the wrong word. i think i caught most of them in editing. i HOPE i caught them anyway :)


	17. Chapter 17

John doesn't stay long, much to Castiel's relief.  He seems perfectly friendly, and Castiel gets along with him fairly well.  But the tension is rolling off Dean in waves and it seems to affect everyone in the room.  Maybe that's why John leaves after eating and bringing in the crib he'd built for Sam and Jo's baby, although he doesn't make any other indications that he notices how strange his kids are acting. 

Castiel does catch John watching him with an intent, yet indecipherable expression a few times.  It's a little unnerving to say the least. 

There's a collective sigh of relief when John leaves.  The silence is broken when Jo reaches up and smacks her palm against the back of Dean’s head.  

He yelps and rubs the spot, giving Jo a wounded pout.  "What was that for?" 

"You're a dick," she answers sharply. 

Dean turns wide eyes to Sam, probably looking for an explanation.  But Sam doesn't look sympathetic at all.  Seeing that both of them are upset with him, Dean hunches his shoulders and mumbles "I didn't know he was going to be here." 

"Still would have been a good time to man up to him," Jo grumbles before disappearing into the kitchen. 

Dean looks so dejected that Castiel immediately moves to comfort him.  He slips an arm around Dean's waist and rests his chin on the taller man's shoulder.  "It's alright, Dean." He glances at Sam and finds him watching the exchange.  His next words are for both brothers.  "It's not your fault." 

Sam's serious expression melts into something gentler and more understanding.  There is a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes before he turns his attention to his brother.  "Cas is right, Dean.  You can't blame yourself for Dad's hangups." 

"But Jo-" 

Sam cuts Dean off.  "Jo doesn't put up with anyone's shit, but that doesn't mean she's always right." 

Dean finally relaxes against Castiel, and even leans into him slightly.  "You better be careful.  You'll end up sleeping on the couch if she hears you talking about her that way." 

Sam only smiles, and he looks smug when he answers.  "I know how to get back in her good graces." 

Castiel barks a laugh at the same time Dean groans.  He really likes Sam, and is grateful that he is supporting Dean. 

Having someone care more about him than his sexuality was Castiel's saving grace when he first came out to his family.  If it weren't for Gabriel, he's not sure where he'd be now.  He's glad that Dean has that with Sam. 

"On that note,” Dean drawls, “I say we get out of here before they start making kissy faces at each other.  They’ve probably held off this long because you’re a guest." Dean turns just enough to meet Castiel's eyes.  "What do you say, Cas? Want a tour of my place?" 

Castiel grins.  "Is your bedroom on this tour?" 

Dean flushes at the suggestion, but he laughs in delight when Sam takes his turn to groan in disgust. 

"Get out," Sam demands with mock disgust.  "And keep it down over there." 

They say their goodbyes, and Castiel tells Jo to keep the leftover pie when she tries to give it back to them.  Her delighted expression supports Dean's earlier assertion that she might eat the leftovers all by herself. 

It's almost dark outside when they leave.  Castiel hadn't realized how long they had been visiting with Sam and Jo.  It's still early evening though, and Castiel has nowhere else to be, so he's glad Dean invited him to stay a little longer. 

As he follows Dean into his half of the duplex, he drops his eyes to watch the sway of Dean's hips.  He's not expecting anything, but if he gets a chance, he's going to try and get a little bit of groping in.  They haven't done anything more than kissing since Sunday, and now that they're alone, Castiel's body is loudly reminding him of how long it's been. 

Dean flips on the lights and closes the door, the motion causing him to brush up against Castiel's side.  "So you've seen the kitchen.”  He swings out an arm to indicate the room they're standing in.  "And this is the living room." 

Castiel makes a show of looking around, only barely registering the overstuffed blue couch, the dark wood coffee table, and the large flat screen TV surrounded by matching shelves across from it.  He's far too distracted by how close Dean is standing.  "It's nice," he manages to get out between dry lips. 

Something in his tone manages to catch Dean's attention.  Green eyes latch onto Castiel's before dropping to his lips and darkening.  Dean runs his thumb across his bottom lip in a gesture that makes him look hungry.  "Yeah, it's not much, but it's home." His already deep voice has dropped an octave. 

Feeling aggressive now that they're alone, Castiel moves closer to him and drops his own voice in a low murmur.  "Didn't you say you were going to show me your bedroom on this tour?" 

He's pleased when Dean's breath hitches.  It takes very little movement to press their chests together, and he reaches up to slide his fingers through the silky hair at the back of Dean’s head to guide him down until their mouths connect. 

Dean groans and tightens his arms around Castiel, cutting off his ability to take a deep breath with the strength of his grip.  Castiel doesn’t mind because he’s not sure any of the oxygen he manages to suck in is doing him any good anyway.  Dean tastes like pie, and Castiel wants more.  He explores Dean’s mouth with his own, tasting and sipping and biting. 

A growl rumbles up from his chest when Dean tries to break the kiss, causing Dean to laugh against his mouth. 

“Cas,” Dean manages to get out despite the slow drag of their lips together.  “Bedroom.” 

That is an acceptable excuse to stop kissing so Castiel releases him.  “Where.” It’s more a command than a question, and Dean nods jerkily before moving to lead the way. 

Castiel stays right on his heels as they hurry up a set of carpeted stairs and down a narrow hallway.  Dean’s bedroom is at the end, and just like the rest of what Castiel has seen of the house, it is neat and clean, but it doesn’t lack personality.  There are band posters and record sleeves on the walls, and shelves full of books with nick knacks and boxes tucked between them.  One wall is taken up by a gigantic window that is covered by thick maroon drapes that match the bedspread. 

There aren’t dirty clothes anywhere, and Castiel winces when he remembers the mess his room when Dean saw it the first time.  His only consolation is that even though Dean seems to be a little bit of a neat freak, he wasn’t scared away by the pile of dirty laundry that Castiel can never seem to quite get rid of. 

Those thoughts are interrupted when Dean spins toward him and starts kissing him again.  His hands tug at Castiel’s shirt, pulling it free.  He leans away long enough to lift a questioning look to Castiel who answers by tugging the shirt off himself, and tossing it on the floor. 

It starts a frenzy of pulling at each other’s clothes, and soon they’re both naked and scrambling onto the bed.  Dean seems just as frantic for skin against skin as Castiel is, his hands exploring, pulling, gripping.  He lets out the most delicious little sounds when Castiel’s thumbs brush over his nipples, wordlessly begging for more.  Castiel obliges by leaning down to tongue the pebbled flesh, first one side then the other, alternating between licking and sucking. 

Dean ends up on his back under Castiel, his dick hard and leaking against Castiel’s stomach.  His hips jerk every now and then like he’s seeking friction, but afraid to really go after it. 

Bracing himself over Dean, Castiel moves until their dicks are lined up and grinds down.  He watches intently as Dean’s eyes roll back, and he grins.  “Feel good?” 

“Y-yeah.” Dean’s hands are gripping Castiel’s hips hard enough that he’ll probably leave bruises.  His eyes snap open and he lifts his head so he can see where their bellies are pressed together, and he nudges Castiel up enough so that just the head of their dicks are visible.  “Fuck, Cas… I want… I wanna…” 

“Tell me what you want, Dean,” Castiel prompts when Dean trails off.  He grinds down again, and watches as red creeps over Dean’s skin.  He doesn’t know if it’s from arousal or embarrassment, but it’s damn sexy either way. 

But Dean isn’t answering him.  He’s biting his bottom lip, turning it bright red from the abuse. 

Castiel leans down again until they’re so close that he can see the gold flecks in Dean’s eyes.  “Do you want to fuck me, Dean?” 

A shudder goes through the other man’s body.  He glances away, looking young and shy.  It’s enough to really make Castiel start paying attention.  Was that too much? Is he rushing things? 

“Actually,” Dean murmurs, “I was hoping you’d... fuck me.” 

Shock makes Castiel go completely still.  “You want…” his brain struggles to use what little blood is still pumping through it to form a coherent thought.  All he’s getting are ghostly mental images of sliding his aching dick into Dean’s ass and fucking him till he’s as stupid as Castiel feels at the moment.  He takes a deep breath, hoping the extra oxygen helps.  It does, a little.  “You want me to fuck you?” 

Dean’s chewing his bottom lip again.  His chin dips in a tiny nod.  He’s still not meeting Castiel’s eyes.  Castiel wants nothing more than to fulfill Dean's request, but not an hour ago Dean was confronted with having to come out to his dad and had a mild panic over the idea.  Bottoming for the first time can be just as serious as coming out, which is something Castiel knows from personal experience. 

So he may sound like a broken record, but he has to be absolutely certain this is what Dean really wants.  “Dean, look at me.  You’re sure?” 

Dean finally looks up and his expression is dead serious.  “Yeah.  I want it.  I want you.” 

“Okay,” Castiel says softly.  And then again, because his brain is still mostly checked out and he’s not sure if he said it or thought it.  “Okay.” 

He sits up so that he’s straddling Dean’s thighs and runs his hands over the hard planes of muscle stretched out below him.  “Do you have lube and condoms?” He’s got some in his wallet because he’s always prepared, but he’s not sure the tiny packet of lube he has is sufficient for Dean’s first time. 

But Dean nods, and gestures at a table next to the bed.  Castiel leans over and pulls open the drawer.  There’s a bottle of lube (Castiel smiles when he notices it’s “all natural organic”) and a strip of condoms.  His grabs the whole thing and drops them on the mattress. 

That makes Dean laugh.  “We gonna need all of those, Cas?” 

“Eventually,” Castiel quips as he pops open the bottle in his hand and winks.  “My turn is next.” 

He shifts and nudges at Dean’s legs until he spreads them and Castiel can settle between them.  He has to tear his eyes away from Dean’s beautiful dick and the shadowed skin below, but he needs to be able to talk to Dean, and he can’t do it if he’s too busy drooling.  “I’m going to take this slow.  You need to tell me if I hurt you.  Because this should not hurt.” 

The blush staining Dean’s skin deepens.  “Cas, I’ll be fine.  I’ve uh… been fingering myself when I jerk off.” 

“No,” Castiel shakes his head to emphasize the word even as his dick twitches at the idea of Dean fucking himself open while he masturbates.  “This is important Dean.  This is a lot different than a couple fingers.” 

Dean props himself up an elbow and reaches for Castiel.  He catches him behind his neck and pulls him forward and down for a kiss.  This one is close-mouthed and gentle, and Castiel can feel the trust Dean is trying to convey through the simple touch of their lips.  When they separate, Dean’s expression is earnest and honest and everything Castiel needs.  “You won’t hurt me, Cas.  I know you won’t.  But if it makes you feel better, I promise I’ll stop you if you push me past where I’m comfortable.  Physically or otherwise.” 

That is exactly the reassurance Castiel needs.  “Thank you, Dean.” 

Dean releases him and falls back on the bed, laughing as he bounces on the mattress.  “Not sure why you’re thanking me.  I’m the one about to get his ass reamed.” He spreads his knees in invitation.  “Come on, Cas.  Let’s do this.” 

His enthusiasm makes Castiel smile.  He moves a little closer and sits cross-legged, then grabs Dean’s hips, pulling and tugging until they’re propped up on Castiel’s lap.  When Dean wiggles a little in discomfort they grab a pillow and tuck it under his lower back as well. 

“Comfortable?” Castiel asks as he drizzles lube over his fingers. 

“Just do it already, Cas.” 

Castiel reaches down between Dean’s legs, and brushes his fingers around the tight ring of muscle that he’s hopefully going to be sliding his dick into soon.  “Patience, Dean.” 

And then he's pressing in, slowly, gently. 

 

***

 

Dean isn't sure why Castiel is being so careful.  The last time they did this Dean was able to take two fingers easily.  Sure there had been a little burn at first, but he'd barely noticed it after a few minutes, especially since the head of his dick had been in the back of Castiel's throat at the time, distracting him from anything unpleasant. 

He gets frustrated when Castiel doesn't seem to be in any hurry to use more than just one finger, especially since he's been petting Dean's prostrate for at least ten minutes already.  It feels fucking fantastic, but it's not enough.  Not anywhere close. 

The position Castiel has him in makes it difficult to move his hips, so he can't push against the hand between his legs in a silent request for more.  "Dammit Cas, I can handle more.  I'm not a delicate princess." 

Castiel lifts an eyebrow in an expression that says he disagrees, but before Dean can get pissed about it, a second finger slides in next to the first. 

Dean arches at the extra pressure, and a whine escapes him.  "Fuck yeah that's better," he grunts. 

His dick is hard enough to pound nails and aching to be touched, but unlike the last few times Castiel fucked him with his fingers, he's not paying attention to it.  Dean feels a little strange because he's used to having his dick be intimately involved with sex.  Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he reaches for it. 

His fingers barely brush the sensitive skin before Castiel is batting his hand away.  “Don’t,” Castiel orders softly.  “I don’t want you to come yet.  It’ll relax you, but make you too sensitive.” 

Dean tries hard not to whine, but it’s really fucking difficult.  “Cas… c’mon man.  You’re killing me here.” 

The smirk that spreads across Castiel’s lips makes Dean shiver.  “That’s a very kind compliment, Dean, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.” 

“Fuck you, Cas,” Dean growls. 

Suddenly a third finger is pressing in with the other two.  Dean gasps at the burn and his body tenses involuntarily against the intrusion. 

“Shhh,” Castiel soothes.  His fingers slide out a little and Dean feels the cold drizzle of more lube before he’s being filled again.  After the bottle of lube is set aside, Castiel rests his free hand low on Dean’s belly. 

The weight of it on his skin is comforting and grounding and Dean is able to relax again.  That must have been what Castiel was waiting for because now he’s fucking his fingers in and out of Dean’s ass slowly, curling them against his prostate on every withdrawal. 

Dean doesn’t know how long Castiel holds him like that, driving him closer and closer to the edge with every push and twist of his wrist.  At some point Dean begins begging.  He’s not lucid enough to know what he’s asking for, and it’s mostly just a litany of _please please fuck, Cas, please_. 

Finally, _fuck_ _finally_ , Castiel seems satisfied that Dean is ready.  His body feels empty for the few seconds it takes for Castiel to put on a condom and slick himself up, and it’s everything Dean can do not to demand that he _hurry the fuck up, god dammit_. 

And Castiel is rolling him over onto his stomach, murmuring praise and reassurance that this position will be easier the first time.  Dean goes willingly, nearly frantic with need.  He groans when he feels Castiel’s thumbs spreading him open and then… 

“Oh God,” Dean whimpers into the mattress. 

He understands now why Castiel is being so careful with him.  This _is_ different.  There’s an ache that feels like both pain and pleasure and Dean isn’t sure how to process it. 

“Dean,” Castiel murmurs against his shoulder.  He begins to feather light kisses over Dean’s skin, speaking between each brush of his lips against sweaty skin.  “Relax, Dean.  I’ve got you.  I’ve got you.” 

His words finally reach Dean’s brain, and he wills himself to relax.  As soon as he does, Castiel makes a low sound of pleasure and pushes in deeper until he’s fully settled inside Dean’s body. 

He rests there, still whispering things that make Dean feel both gorgeous and wanted, as well as a little sheepish about enjoying the compliments.  He’s used to being called a Pretty Boy, but it’s not the same as being told how beautiful he is.  Castiel’s words are laced with reverence instead of mocking, and Dean thinks he could get used to it. 

Dean’s hard-on had flagged, but when Castiel’s hands start sliding gently over his skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake, it comes back with a vengeance.  Tentatively he flexes his hips back. 

Both of them gasp as the angle changes. 

“Cas,” Dean groans as he repeats the movement.  “Fuck me.” 

Castiel begins to move and Dean’s eyes roll up in his head as sparks of pleasure spread through him.  His dick is trapped between his belly and the mattress and every time Castiel thrusts into him, he gets the friction he needs.  Almost. 

Not caring that Castiel reprimanded him for trying to touch himself earlier, Dean lifts his hips just enough to snake a hand under himself and _oh God yes._  

The room fills with the sounds of harsh breathing, needy moans, and squeaking mattress springs.  Dean is close, so close but he needs something… something… 

Castiel shifts, grabbing Dean’s hips and propping him up on his knees.  Any gentleness he has been displaying so far disappears completely, and it only takes another five or six hits on his prostrate before Dean is coming all over his hand and the mattress. 

“Oh fuck, _Dean_.” 

Dean is nearly knocked back to his stomach by the renewed vigor Castiel fucks him with.  His orgasm is going on and on because Castiel is still hitting him at just the right angle.  He wants to beg Castiel to stop; it’s too much, _too much_.  But he also wants to beg him to keep going.  He can’t do either, because his brain is shutting down and he doesn’t have the capacity to form coherent words. 

When Castiel comes, he goes still deep inside of Dean.  And the fucker actually bites him.  Vaguely Dean realizes he might end up with a bruise, but some animal part of his brain likes the idea of being marked. 

And then they’re both collapsing onto the bed.  Dean’s so strung out on the lingering high of his orgasm, he can’t even be upset that he’s lying in the wet spot. 

His body feels empty and aching when Castiel pulls free, and Dean feels his heart start pounding with alarm.  He’s not ready to lose the connection.  He needs- 

Castiel pulls him close, turning him in his arms until he can nuzzle Dean’s cheek.  “You were amazing, Dean.  So good.” 

The cuddling and the praise stop Dean’s sudden emotional nosedive.  He lets himself be held and praised and petted, and it’s the weirdest fucking thing because isn’t this his job? But he doesn’t have the energy to protest, especially because he likes it. 

After a while, Castiel’s words trail off.  Dean would think he might have fallen asleep if Castiel’s long fingers weren’t still tracing random patterns on his skin.  His higher brain function is starting to return, and he’s thinking about suggesting a shower when Castiel speaks. 

“Was that… alright?” 

Dean grunts a surprised laugh.  “What do you think?” Castiel is quiet for a moment, and Dean lifts his head until he can see the other man’s blue eyes.  He’s confused when he sees Castiel’s serious expression.  “Cas, what’s up? Talk to me, man.” 

That brings a small smile to Castiel’s lips.  “I just want to make sure your first time was good.” 

Dean props himself up on an elbow so he can more comfortably look at Castiel.  “It was…” he pauses, trying to find the right word.  Only one comes to mind.  “Awesome.” He feels even better when Castiel’s eyes light up. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he continues.  “I’m probably going to be walking funny for a few days.” 

Castiel idly traces a pattern over Dean’s heart.  “You swagger so much, no one will notice.” 

Dean laughs a little, but his humor fades when he realizes Castiel is still oddly serious.  He nudges his knee against Castiel’s.  “What aren’t you telling me?” 

With a long sigh, Castiel disentangles himself and sits up.  He turns so that Dean can only see the side of his face.  “I just… I remember how hard it was for me when I first started seeing men.  I was so scared of my family finding out.  I was hiding constantly, and it was very stressful.  And the first time I had sex I hated it because the guy wasn’t careful and I thought there was something wrong with me and-” He cuts off with a frustrated noise.  Turning, he faces Dean fully and pins him with a blue stare.  “I don’t want you to go through those things.  And we’re moving really fast, so I’m worried about you.” 

“Hey, Cas…” Dean sits up to put himself on level with Castiel.  He suppresses a wince when he realizes that he’s definitely going to be walking funny for a day or two.  He takes Castiel’s hands and rubs them between his own.  He doesn’t want to talk about these things.  About coming out, and moving fast, and all of the things that he feels when he thinks about what he’s now tentatively willing to admit is a relationship.  “Look, maybe we are moving fast.  But what we’re doing? I want it.  I want this with you.” 

Castiel’s eyes are wide, and Dean has to look away.  It always feels like he’s looking into his soul when he does that creepy stare thing.  It’s easier to speak now that he doesn’t feel pinned under Castiel’s attention.  “I’m scared.  I don’t have a great track record with girlfriends, so a boyfriend? That’s a whole other ballgame, and I don’t know the rules.  I’m going to fuck up.  I already did earlier with my dad-” 

“No, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is sharp and Dean’s head jerks up in surprise.  “You didn’t fuck up today.  I told you that I understand, and I mean it.  You’ll tell him when you’re ready.” 

“What if I’m never ready?” 

“Then he’s the asshole, not you.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Dean breathes as he leans forward and bumps his forehead against Castiel’s.  “You gotta stop being perfect.  You’re giving me a complex.” 

Long fingers start petting through Dean’s hair and Castiel smiles.  “I’m going to let you think that for as long as possible.” 

Dean barks a laugh.  “Sure, Cas, whatever.” He leans forward and steals a quick kiss before sitting up and pulling out Castiel’s embrace.  He’s done talking for now, so it’s time for a distraction.  “Shower time?” 

Castiel agrees and they head to the bathroom to get cleaned up.  Dean’s grateful for the fact that he has a larger water heater than the one at Castiel’s apartment because they end up groping each other and making out for a while instead of washing.  They’re both too worn out for it to really go anywhere, but it feels damn good anyway. 

It’s not until much later when they’re curled up in the bed (with a fresh blanket because wet spots are gross) and both slipping into sleep that Dean remembers Castiel’s comments about his first time having sex going poorly.  “Hey, Cas?” 

“Hm?” 

“That guy who hurt you.  Your first time?” 

“Hm.” 

“Do you want me to track him down and arrest him on some bullshit charges?” 

Castiel’s whole body shakes as a laugh rumbles through him.  He snuggles in closer to Dean, pressing his face in the crook of his neck enough that Dean can feel his smile against his skin.  “That won’t be necessary.” 

“Offer’s open any time,” Dean says through a yawn.  

“I appreciate it… go to sleep.” 

Dean does as he’s told, unaware that he falls asleep with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha remember how I said I was going to take a break? Turns out I don't actually know how to do that. Oh well! *shrugs*


	18. Chapter 18

“You missed a spot.” 

Dean frowns and takes a step back, trying to see what Castiel is talking about.  The lion he is painting is nearly finished, and he is just filling in the darker mane.  “What the hell are you talking about, Cas? I didn’t miss anything.” 

Castiel, who is splattered with as much paint as Dean is after spending the day helping him paint a mural in his future nephew’s bedroom, isn’t even looking at the wall.  He is staring at Dean, his eyes squinted like he’s concentrating.  He lifts one paint-stained hand and runs the tip of his finger down Dean’s left cheek leaving a wet streak of orange behind.  Then he smiles proudly.  “There we go, that’s better.” 

Spluttering and wiping his face on his arm, Dean pulls away.  He tries to sound angry, but he simply can’t keep the laughter out of his voice.  “Dammit! What the hell was that for?” 

“You needed some orange to complete the rainbow you’re wearing.” Castiel grins and jumps back when Dean takes a half-hearted swipe at him.  “Seriously, you should see yourself.  I think there’s just as much paint on you as there is on the walls.” 

Dean huffs out a breath, turning away with a roll of his eyes.  “Whatever.  Painting is a dirty job.” 

If he had stuck to just the walls, he might have avoided splattering paint all over himself, but when Sam told him he wanted a safari theme for the bedroom, Dean hadn’t been able to resist going all out and painting the ceiling as well.  The trees grow up into the corners, and he painted the ceiling half daylight and half night time.  It’s hard to avoid having the paint drip down when he’s painting above himself. 

It looks damn good though.  _Michelangelo eat your heart out._  

Now that his concentration has been interrupted, fatigue starts dragging at his shoulders.  How long has he been going at it? “What time is it?” 

From the corner of his eye he sees Castiel pull his phone out to check the clock.  “Nearly dinner time.  We should probably stop for the evening.” 

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, eyeing the partially finished mural and mentally calculating how much work is left to be done.  “Food and fresh air sound like a good idea.” 

Despite the cold December weather, they had left the window open while they worked to get a steady stream of fresh air, but he is feeling a little light headed.  He doesn’t know if it’s from the paint fumes or lack of food, but either way stopping for the night is probably a good idea.  He drops his paint brush in the tray near his feet.  It needs to be cleaned, but food is a priority right now. 

“Let’s get cleaned up and get some chow,” he says as he bends down to remove his paint stained socks.  He has to be careful as he he’s walking over the drop cloth not to step in any colorful puddles, and when he turns to make sure Castiel is following him, he sees his boyfriend is having the same problem because they really did make quite a mess. 

_Boyfriend_. 

Dean’s still getting used to the word since they’ve only been dating just a few weeks, but every time he thinks it he gets a pleasantly warm feeling throughout his whole body.  The term felt weird at first because Castiel is in no way a “boy” and leagues past being his “friend”.  But the term “partner” feels even stranger since Dean already connects that word with Benny. 

He doesn’t really say it out loud often.  So far, Sam and Jo are the only ones who know the extent of their relationship.  Benny and Charlie know he’s dating Castiel, but he hasn’t made it clear to them yet just how serious it is.  He doesn’t plan on leaving them in the dark much longer though.  With Christmas coming up, Dean has plans for a little party and they’re going to figure out what’s going on as soon as they see him and Castiel together. 

It’ll be pretty obvious, because he and Castiel are always all over each other.  Today is the first day they’ve been alone together for more than an hour without fucking like bunnies.  Seriously, Dean hasn’t had this much sex in years.  And his dick is showing no signs of getting bored with it. 

He’s so into Castiel that just hearing the song Send Me An Angel, even when it’s not his ringtone, will get him hard.  It’s caused a few embarrassing situations. 

They may actually make it through the day without fucking though, because Dean is exhausted.  His feet drag against the carpet as he makes his way to the kitchen, and if he’s tired, Castiel must be too.  He’d worked half a day at the bakery and came straight over to help Dean when he was finished. 

“What do you want to eat?” He asks when he reaches the fridge and opens it.  “There’s sandwich stuff in here, or I’ve got some leftover KFC at my place.” He glances over his shoulder and smiles a little when Castiel slumps against the kitchen island.  “Or we could order something.” 

Despite his obvious exhaustion, Castiel’s smile is radiant.  “A sandwich would be wonderful.  Is there Coke in there?” 

Dean leans into the fridge to grab a can and passes it to Castiel, then moves to the sink to wash the paint off his hands before gathering the things he needs for a couple of roast beef sandwiches.  He lays the ingredients out on the kitchen island and begins layering them together in two large sandwiches.  He adds extra mustard and pickles to Castiel’s and leaves off the mayo, just the way he likes it.  Castiel does his best to clean himself up while Dean is working on the meal. 

When dinner is ready and they’re both taking the first bite, Dean sighs and braces himself against the kitchen island.  Fuck, he is starving.  He’s glad that Sam and Jo left stuff in the fridge while they went on their little weekend getaway. 

Tickets to a rustic B&B in New England had been Sam’s early Christmas present to Jo.  He’d asked Dean to paint the bedroom while they were gone as a surprise for her as well, and that was Dean’s contribution to Jo’s holiday.  With all the work he and Castiel had gotten done today, they should have everything finished by the time the lovebirds get home. 

About halfway through his sandwich, Dean begins to feel human enough to speak.  “Thanks for helping me with this, Cas.” 

Castiel’s bright blue eyes come up, and the skin around them crinkles when he grins.  “Thank you for inviting me.  I’m having a great time.” 

“Yeah, but you look like you’re about to fall over,” Dean points out before taking a large swallow of his own soda. 

Castiel laughs and Dean loves it.  He loves watching the way Castiel’s head tilts back, and his nose wrinkles and the muscles of his throat flex.  It’s fucking sexy.  _Cas_ is fucking sexy.  And despite the fact that ten minutes ago he felt like he could have tipped over and fallen asleep where he landed, Dean is suddenly randy.  Dammit, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get enough of Castiel. 

“Are you forgetting what I do for a living?” Castiel asks.  His eyes sparkle with humor and he leans his elbows on the island, holding his sandwich with both hands in front of his face.  “This isn’t nearly as bad as carrying around huge bags of flour and sugar, and running back and forth from the kitchen to the register all day.” 

Dean chuckles because the guy’s got a point.  “You really need to hire someone,” he says before taking a huge bite of his sandwich.  He’s sure he probably looks like a chipmunk, but he doesn’t care.  Food.  Good. 

“I’ve got someone starting on Monday.” Castiel fishes a pickle out of his sandwich and pops it in his mouth.  “Her name’s Hannah.  Balthazar sent her to me.  I guess she didn’t do well waiting on inebriated customers.  Too much groping for her taste.” 

Dean grimaces.  “Can’t say I blame her.” He’d met Balthazar the week before.  The smarmy bastard got on Dean’s nerves, but he suspected it was deliberate.  And he couldn’t hate the guy if he was taking care of one of his employees by sending her somewhere that fit her better.  “So now that you’ve got a newbie at the shop, does that mean more free time for you?” 

“I can finally take two whole days off a week,” Castiel answers while chewing another pickle drenched in mustard.  “And probably a half day now and then.” 

The news sends a thrill of excitement through Dean.  He and Castiel spend as much time together as possible, but as a cop Dean’s schedule sometimes changes from week to week, and until now Castiel only took Sundays off.  They can’t always find the time to be together, but the extra time Castiel has now will make it easier. 

Castiel’s phone rings, interrupting his thoughts.  It’s a clip from that obnoxious Taylor Swift song that Dean absolutely refuses to admit out loud that he finds catchy even though he downloaded a copy of it onto his computer the other day.  His music collection is slowly growing because of Castiel, who is a smug bastard about it every time he comes over and sees a new addition in iTunes. 

The only custom ringtone on Castiel’s phone is for Dean, and it’s Traveling Riverside Blues, so he forgives Cas for the rest of his music choices. 

Castiel pulls his phone out of his pocket and frowns at the screen.  He sets his sandwich down and glances up at Dean.  “I need to take this.” 

He doesn’t wait for Dean to respond before swiping his thumb across the screen and pressing the phone up to his ear.  “Hello?” 

Worry settles in Dean’s stomach when Castiel grimaces and gestures to the door in a silent message that he’s going to go out on the porch.  Castiel has every right to his privacy, but he’s never acted like he didn’t want Dean to hear his conversations before. 

He shakes his head at himself for being ridiculous and finishes off his sandwich.  He’s only known Castiel for a few months, and just because something hasn’t happened before, that doesn’t mean that a change in behavior is a big deal.  He has no reason to feel weird about it. 

But he does.  And he doesn’t think it’s because he’s jealous or upset or anything.  There was something in Castiel’s expression that just… Dean doesn’t know what.  It’s just wrong.  And Dean’s protective instincts are flaring up for no apparent reason which makes him feel paranoid. 

Mentally kicking himself in the ass for being a nosy bastard, Dean finishes his meal and wraps up what’s left of Castiel’s before heading to the nursery and starting the process of cleaning up.  He washes the paint brushes and rinses out the paint trays in the large sink in the laundry room at the back of the house.  Since he’s planning on finishing the project tomorrow, he decides to leave the drop cloth down. 

Castiel is still on the phone by the time Dean is finished cleaning up.  Through the curtains of the front window Dean can see him pacing back and forth.  His arms are wrapped tight around his chest, and he looks angry.  Dean can’t hear what he’s saying, but when he speaks it’s obvious that he’s telling someone off. 

He settles down on the couch, and picks up the remote, planning to flip through channels until Castiel is done with his phone call, but he changes his mind as soon as the TV turns on and he shuts it back off.  A glance out the window only makes him worry more, and he’s tempted to go out and see what’s going on, but he’s afraid of overstepping his boundaries. 

Fuck, what are his boundaries here? He has no idea.  He needs a distraction, or he’s going to go out there and find out. 

He hasn’t seen Bones in a little while, so he wanders through the house until he finds the dog sleeping on Sam and Jo’s bed.  He whistles to the dog, waking him up.  “Come on, buddy.  Let’s go outside for a minute.” 

To avoid invading Castiel’s privacy, Dean takes Bones out to the back yard.  Once the dog does his business, Dean tosses a tennis ball for him a few times, letting him work out a little since he’s been shut up in the house most of the day while Dean and Castiel worked on the nursery. 

After another fifteen minutes or so, he whistles for Bones to come inside and makes sure the dog’s bowls are full before going back to the front of the house.  Seeing Castiel still out on the porch is suddenly pissing Dean off pretty badly.  Whatever is going on is something serious, and Dean can’t ignore it anymore. 

Seeing Castiel’s jacket still hanging next to the door gives Dean the perfect excuse to poke his head out the door.  He grabs it and heads outside just in time to hear Castiel lay down an ultimatum. 

“You and I are done, Michael.  Don’t call me anymore.”  He lowers the phone from his ear and jams his thumb against the screen, cutting off an angry rant that Dean can just barely hear as a low-key squawk coming from the speakers. 

Dean freezes just outside the door.  What the hell? Who is Michael? 

“Cas?” he calls tentatively.  When Castiel turns to him, he holds out the coat he’d grabbed.  “I thought you might need this.” 

Castiel’s expression changes from angry to grateful in a flash.  Tension drains from him, and he smiles.  “Thank you, Dean.  But I think I am ready to come back inside.” 

“Let me just grab my stuff and lock up,” Dean says.  “Bones is set for the night, so we’re done here.  You head on over to my place, and I’ll be there in a minute.” 

He holds the coat out again, and relief rushes through him when Castiel accepts it.  It’s a tiny gesture, but he feels better knowing he’s doing something for the other man. 

It takes him less than a minute to grab his jacket and his keys, and another second to grab his and Castiel’s shoes from where they’re sitting next to the door.  Jesus Christ, Castiel has been outside in the cold December weather barefoot.  Fucking moron. 

When he enters his own side of the duplex, Castiel is sitting cross legged on the couch, rubbing his feet.  He looks up when Dean opens the door and smiles a little sheepishly.  “I didn’t realize how cold I was until I got back inside.” 

Dean drops both pairs of shoes on the floor inside the door and hangs up his coat next to Castiel’s.  “Come on,” he says with a jerk of his head toward the stairs.  “Let’s go take a shower and warm you up.” 

Castiel meekly follows him up the stairs, and let’s Dean undress him while the water runs and heats up.  When he finally steps into the tub, he hisses. 

“Too hot?” Dean is already reaching for the temperature controls. 

“It’s fine,” Castiel says quickly to stop him.  “Now get in here with me.” 

It’s an order Dean is happy to obey.  He strips and gets into the shower and is pleased when Castiel moves against him.  At least until he realizes how cold Castiel’s skin is.  “Dammit, Cas.  What were you thinking?” 

Castiel stands passively as Dean starts rubbing his arms and back in an attempt to warm him up faster.  He leans his face on Dean’s shoulder and sighs, relaxing under Dean’s fingers and the steady beat of hot water on his back.  “I didn’t think the call would take me that long, and then I got distracted.” 

Dean waits for him to elaborate, and when he doesn’t he begins to get a little angry.  He doesn’t want to overstep, but he’s also not cool with Castiel hurting himself over whatever that call was about.  Hoping he doesn’t royally piss Castiel off, he asks “What’s going on, Cas? Who was that?” 

It’s a long moment before Castiel speaks, and he sucks in a breath and lets it out in a long sigh before he says anything.  “I basically just broke up with someone I wasn’t aware I was in a relationship with.” 

_What?_ “Cas, that doesn’t make a lot of sense.” 

Castiel’s chest rumbles against Dean’s with a laugh.  “You know, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me either.” 

“You’re gonna have to elaborate,” Dean prompts. 

Castiel sighs again and straightens so he can look up at Dean through water-spiked eyelashes.  “His name is Michael.  He’s a friend of sorts.  Mostly we just had sex.  That was before I met you though,” he adds quickly. 

Dean’s eyebrows go up.  “And you’re just now getting around to breaking things off with him?” 

Castiel reaches for the shampoo bottle and pops it open as he answers.  “Honestly? I completely forgot about him.  The last time I heard from him was the night we went on our first date.” 

The memory of Castiel ignoring his phone several times during the night surfaces, and Dean feels absurdly happy that he rated higher on Castiel’s priorities than a long time fuck buddy.  “So all those times you ignored your phone.  That was him?” 

“Yes.” Castiel’s eyes are closed because he’s lathering up his hair, but there’s a furrow between his brows as if he’s thinking about something unpleasant.  “I’ve never ignored him before.  I have had a somewhat unhealthy obsession with him for years, and I’ve…” he trails off, frowning harder.  He ducks his head under the spray to rinse off. 

Dean waits patiently for him to finish.  When Castiel wipes the water out of his eyes and finally blinks up at Dean, he prompts him for more.  “You’ve what?” 

Castiel glances away and worries at his bottom lip, and for a moment Dean is afraid he’s not going to answer.  His voice is barely audible over the sound of water pounding against skin when he speaks.  “I’ve left dates with other men to go see him when he called.  You’re the only exception.” 

_Well then._   Dean blinks stupidly at that, unsure how to process it.  He doesn’t understand what makes him so special, but he knows that Castiel’s words make him feel ten feet tall all of a sudden.  Deciding to skim over that for now, he goes back to tonight’s phone call.  “And this is the first time you’ve talked to him since then? You really forgot about him?” 

Castiel wrinkles his nose, and a little bit of the angry fire that he’d been displaying while talking to Michael enters his expression again.  “The morning after I ignored him I checked my phone and he’d left some rather unpleasant messages.  I wasn’t in a hurry to talk to him after that.  And he made it clear that he was going to withhold the pleasure of his company as punishment for my misdeeds.  Apparently he decided he needed someone to fuck tonight and changed his mind about giving me the silent treatment.” 

Rage tints the edges of Dean’s vision.  What an _asshole_.  “Are you fucking serious?” 

For some reason Dean’s anger amuses Castiel and he laughs a little.  “That was exactly what I said to him when he asked me to come over and spread my legs for him.” 

“He said that to you?” Dean’s palms begin to sting from where his fingers are digging crescents into his skin because he’s clenching his fists so hard. 

“Among other things.” 

Castiel’s tone is nonchalant, but Dean can see the slight downturn of his lips and the tightness around his eyes.  He’s upset about the exchange. 

“That son of a bitch,” Dean bites out through a clenched jaw.  “What else did he say?” 

The look Castiel gives him is sharp with warning.  “It doesn’t matter Dean.  He was just being an asshole, and while that hurts because he’s never talked to me like that before, I’m a grown man and I can handle a few insults.  I told him we were through and that I don’t want to hear from him again.  It’s over.” 

“You’re sure?” Dean demands. 

Castiel smiles and presses himself against Dean, sliding his arms up around his shoulders.  “You know you’re kinda hot like this?” 

Having a sexy Baker pressed full length against him distracts Dean from his anger.  He blinks stupidly at Castiel for a few seconds while his brain tries to switch gears.  “Like what?” 

Castiel leans in and runs his tongue across Dean’s bottom lip before answering.  “Angry and protective.  You look dangerous.” 

Dean quirks an eyebrow.  “And that’s hot?” 

“As long as I’m not the one you’re pissed at, yeah.” 

That pulls a grudging laugh out of Dean, and the anger disappears completely.  But the adrenaline that pumped into his system at the thought of some jackass mistreating his boyfriend is still buzzing under his skin, and now he’s horny. 

Castiel grins at him when he feels Dean’s dick go hard against his hip.  He leans up and nips at Dean’s bottom lip, and murmurs against his mouth.  “I’m going to suck your cock, Dean.” 

“Well okay then.” Like Dean is going to argue with that.  He watches hungrily as Castiel drops to his knees, and sucks in a harsh breath when plump lips wrap around the head of his dick and suck.  “Fuck, Cas.” 

Castiel releases him with a pop and grins.  “I’d like that too.” 

Dean groans and threads his fingers through Castiel’s wet hair, pulling him gently.  “Yeah, I want to fuck you Cas, but let me feel your mouth for a few minutes first.” 

His head drops forward until his chin is resting on his chest so he can watch as Castiel leans in and starts sucking him off.  God damn, he’s not sure he’ll ever get tired of seeing how those lips stretch around him.  It’s obscene, and so fucking hot.  Castiel’s hands wander up and down Dean’s thighs and around behind to massage his ass.  Dean would love to feel those long fingers pressing into his hole, but he won’t be able to stop himself from coming, and he doesn’t want that right now. 

It’s not long before he feels the muscles in his stomach clench in warning, and he uses the grip he has on Castiel’s hair to pull him off his dick.  “Stop, Cas,” he gasps.  “Stop.” 

He pulls him up to his feet and captures his mouth in a slick kiss.  A small whine escapes his throat when Castiel’s tongue invades his mouth, and he sucks on it for a moment before releasing him.  “Turn around.” 

Castiel does as he’s told, planting his palms on the tiled wall and tilting his hips back invitingly.  “Come on, Dean.  I need your cock.” 

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. 

They fool around in the shower enough that he’s started keeping a basket of supplies in there.  He angles the showerhead so that the water won’t wash away the lube he’s about to apply before he grabs the bottle and slicks up his fingers.  Castiel opens to two fingers easily. 

He’d told Dean that he was used to bottoming, but it was a nice change that Dean preferred being fucked most of the time.  Dean never thought he’d be the one taking it more often, but he really loves having Castiel inside of him. 

Still, Castiel still takes less prep than Dean does since his body is more used to it.  And Dean’s gotta admit, he’s a little glad for that right now because he’s nearly frantic to get his dick into the tight hole he’s currently fucking with two - he shifts his hand - three fingers. 

“That’s enough, Dean.  Do it now.” 

Tearing open a condom with his teeth and putting it on one handed is a skill Dean learned at a young age, and he’s a pro at it.  So he keeps his fingers inside Castiel’s tight heat right up until he’s ready to replace them with his dick. 

Castiel hisses and pushes back onto Dean, forcing him in faster than he’d intended.  He worries for a moment about going too fast, but Castiel rolls his hips and Dean’s lost. 

He grabs Castiel’s waist and bucks into him hard and deep.  A small part of him that’s apparently a possessive bastard is trying to replace any memory Castiel has of that Michael douche by fucking it out of him and leaving an imprint of himself that he will never forget. 

It’s hard and it’s rough, and he’s probably leaving bruises, but the adrenaline high is still buzzing through him and he can’t help himself.  He’s never been this rough before.  Thank God Castiel seems into it.  He’s whimpering and begging for more and urging Dean on with words and by pushing back into every thrust. 

Dean is close again, but he wants Castiel to be right there with him.  He releases one of Castiel’s hips and reaches around to grab his dick, jacking him with uneven strokes.  When Castiel let’s out a wordless shout and comes all over the tile wall, Dean buries his face against the back of his neck.  “ _Cas_ …” he whimpers as his hips stutter and then go still as he pumps the condom full. 

He collapses against Castiel’s back, crushing him against the wall while he tries to catch his breath.  Unconsciously he starts pressing small kisses against the skin under his mouth.  He kinda feels like an asshole because he was rougher than he wanted to be, and he really hopes he didn’t hurt Cas. 

“Well,” Castiel sighs against the tile a few minutes later.  “I’m not cold anymore.” 

Dean barks a laugh against Castiel’s shoulder.  He musters the energy to brace a hand against the wall and push himself upright so he’s not crushing the shorter man.  He pulls the condom off and tosses it to the side of the tub to be disposed of later.  “You’re okay?” he asks when Castiel also straightens and turns to face him.  “I wasn’t too rough was I?” 

Castiel pulls him into a soft lingering kiss.  It’s tender and intimate, and it does more to reassure Dean than words could, but he still appreciates it when Castiel answers him.  “You were just as rough as I wanted.  I’ll probably walk like you for a few days.” 

“Awesome,” Dean breathes into his mouth.  “Hey, wanna spend the night?” 

“That was the plan,” Castiel answers quietly in between slow dragging kisses.  

“Very awesome.” 

“You know you still have paint on your face?” 

Dean just laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaat? Another chapter already??? I had no intention of writing at all today, but about 4 hours ago inspiration struck, and here you go, a shiny new chapter! 
> 
> Spoiler alert:
> 
> For those of you who have been worried about the other shoe dropping? This is not it. 
> 
> And by the way, thank you for the the comments and the encouragement. I love you guys :D


	19. Chapter 19

Dean's palm tingles as his phone vibrates and he can't help the doofy grin spreading across his features when he checks the message.  Castiel has been sending him dirty messages all day, and this one is no exception.  They haven't seen each other for a few days and Castiel is promising all kinds of ways to make up for lost time. 

It is distracting as hell, but Dean doesn't mind in the least.  He has a few plans of his own for the blue eyed baker. 

"Do I wanna know what your boy is saying," Benny asks as he pulls the cruiser into the parking garage at the police station. 

"Not if you ever want to think of donuts the same way," Dean answers with a snicker.  

Benny grimaces and turns off the engine.  "Too late." 

He gets out of the car, and Dean trails after him into the station.  "Yeah, Cas has basically ruined every dessert ever for me now." Even pie.  The fucker had made him sit through that god-awful American Pie movie and during the scene where some damn kid was violating a perfectly good apple pie, Castiel had leaned over and sucked Dean's earlobe into his mouth.  They ended up too distracted by each other to watch the rest of the movie. 

The first time he visited Castiel's bakery after that he'd popped a boner at the sight of all the beautiful pies in the glass display case.  Dean's not sure he'll ever forgive him for that. 

Benny's laugh is a low rumble in his chest.  He shakes his head as he leads the way down a hallway to the bull pit.  "Too much information, brother." 

Dean smirks at his partner's back.  It's tempting to share a few of Castiel's dirtier suggestions just to see if he can make the other man blush because that would be hilarious.  But his half-formed plans to scar Benny for life are interrupted when his phone buzzes again.  He stops in his tracks and checks his messages. 

 _I never understood the fascination with whip cream when honey takes so much more effort to lick off._  

"Bastard," Dean mutters, although he's grinning again.  He starts to tap out a reply, but he's startled when a hand comes down on his shoulder. 

John leans over Dean a little bit.  "What's got you so cheerful?" 

Dean quickly jerks the phone down and away so his dad can't see the messages.  He spins to face his dad, and gropes for an answer that won't sound like an evasion.  John's skills as a detective are far too sharp for Dean to attempt a lie.  He'd sniff it out immediately.  "Uh, just joking around with a friend." 

It's the truth, although labeling Castiel as only a friend causes an uncomfortable twinge in his chest. 

John catches something in Dean's expression though, and he narrows his eyes in suspicion.  "A friend?" 

 _Shit_. 

Forcing a calm he doesn't feel, and a plastering on a playboy smirk Dean responds.  "Yeah, Dad.  A friend." He hopes his dad latches onto the innuendo and doesn't pry any further.  Dean doesn't need to specify his "friend's" gender after all.  John can infer that on his own. 

The ploy works.  John barks a laugh and slaps Dean on the shoulder.  "Alright, I don't need to hear about your sexting with your latest piece of tail." 

Dean stiffens and has to bite back the urge to snap at John.  Castiel is not a _piece of tail_.  He's also pissed that John sees any of the women Dean might date that way.  Sure he doesn't have the greatest track record for long term relationships, but not even his one night stands deserve that kind of disrespect.  But he keeps his mouth shut because he doesn't want to let anything slip about Castiel that he's not ready to admit yet.  If he tells John that Cas is his "girlfriend", John will want to meet him, and that'll fuck things up.  So he lets John think what he wants for the moment. 

John doesn't seem to notice his irritation.  "I haven't seen you outside of work for a while, boy.  You should come over for dinner.  I can fire up the grill." 

"Dad, it snowed last night," Dean points out.  He starts walking toward the bull pit.  His shift is technically over but he needs to file a report before he can clock out and he doesn't want to take long on it since he's got plans to meet Castiel for dinner. 

"Never let that stop me before." John follows and leans against Dean's desk.  "Come on, Sam and Jo'll be there too.  We'll watch the game and do the whole family thing." 

Normally Dean would have jumped on the opportunity.  Family stuff can sometimes get tense because John is still a little bitter that Sam went into law as a "blood sucking" lawyer instead of going into it as a cop or a detective and sometimes they will start to snipe at each other over it. 

Barring a few arguments that Dean has to play referee for, he always looks forward to the times they can all be together.  But he doesn't have to work the next day, and Castiel asked him to come out with him on a date.  Since they tend to spend most of their time together sleeping or banging like bunnies, Cas is looking forward to doing something special and Dean agrees. 

"Sorry, Dad, can’t tonight." Dean boots his computer up and starts pulling up the files he needs to fill out.  He mentally crosses his fingers, hoping his dad will let him decline without digging.  "I've already got plans and I'm not gonna bail at the last minute." 

John snorts and rolls his eyes.  "You can go get your rocks off anytime, Dean.  I haven't had you boys over for dinner in a while, and I miss you." 

Warmth curls inside Dean at the confession.  John isn't usually so open about his affection, and Dean has always soaked up every drop of it he can get.  But for once, the lure of his father's approval is not very motivational.  Not when he has Castiel waiting for him.  

Deciding that the only way to get John off his back is to give up a few slivers of information, Dean sighs and chooses his words carefully.  “Dad, it’s not a booty call.  I’ve been seeing, uh… we’ve been going out a while actually, and our schedules don’t mesh up often so we made special plans for tonight.” 

The look John gives him makes Dean want to squirm out from under it but he forces himself to keep calm and sends up to a prayer to anything that might be listening that his dad doesn’t ask to meet “her”.  He has to clamp his hands over the edge of his desk when John finally nods his understanding to keep himself from sliding out of his chair from the rush of relief that comes with his temporary reprieve. 

"Alright, go have your fun.  But if this is getting serious I want to meet her.  Make sure she's the right fit for my boy." 

Dean smiles weakly.  "Sure, Dad.  You bet." 

John chuckles at his discomfort, mistaking the reason behind it.  "Don't be nervous, kiddo.  I won't scare her off.  I do know how to behave myself." 

 _Yeah sure,_ Dean thinks sarcastically when John waves and takes off across the bull pit.  This is the same man who casually tosses ‘fairy’ and ‘faggot’ into rants about how he’s sick of hearing about same sex marriage battles in the Supreme Court all the time.  He doesn’t think John really cares if gays and lesbians can or can’t get married and is more irritated that it’s taking up government resources to iron out, but he certainly doesn’t want to test his theory out by introducing him to _his boyfriend_. 

Benny gives him a knowing look from his desk, but doesn’t comment when Dean meets his gaze.  Instead he changes the subject, proving once again that he’s one of Dean’s best friends.  “So, hot date, huh?” 

Dean blushes and looks away, but allows his thoughts to be directed in a more pleasant direction.  He has nothing to hide from Benny after all.  “Yeah, Cas wants to go out to his friend’s piano bar-club-thing.” 

“Really?” Benny’s drawl is dripping with amusement.  “Sounds kinda fancy.  Not really the kind of place I’d expect you to hang out at.” 

“Hey, I’m perfectly comfortable dressing up and going somewhere nice,” Dean defends, but he’s grinning because dive bars are much more his scene and they both know it.  “I own a tie.” 

Benny bursts out in a full belly laugh.  “And you’re willing to put it on for Cas? Damn, brother.  You’ve got it bad.” 

Dean responds by lifting his middle finger in Benny’s direction, and earns another joyful laugh that makes Dean grin.  “Yeah, shut the fuck up, man.  I gotta get this last report filed so I can get out of here on time.” 

But as he gets back to work, he’s still smiling because yeah, it’s true.  He’s definitely got it bad.  And it feels awesome.

 

***

 

“Your hot cop certainly cleans up nicely.” 

Castiel can’t help but agree with Balthazar’s observation, although “nicely” is something of an understatement.  Dean’s charcoal grey slacks and crisp black button up dress shirt hug his form, revealing the lines of his body when he moves, and Castiel has found himself gaping more than once.  And he’s had to refrain from grabbing Dean’s blood red silk tie and using it like a leash to drag him home and into his bed at least twice. 

Actually, that had been his first thought when he opened the door to his apartment when Dean came to pick him up.  He’d been wearing a thick wool coat over the rest of his ensemble, and Castiel had just caught a glimpse of the red tie at his neck.  Before he knew what he was doing he reached for it, only changing the movement from a _grab and haul away_ to an _adjusting the knot_ at the last second. 

He is totally going to make Dean keep the tie on when they get home later though.  He has plans for it. 

“Yes,” he agrees in a thoughtful tone that doesn’t convey an ounce of the lust he feels every time he looks at his boyfriend. 

Balthazar knows him well though, and glances sideways at him, not even bothering to hide his smirk.  “I am impressed with the willpower it must have taken you to not drag him straight to bed.” 

Castiel laughs and turns away from watching Dean interacting with a group of Balthazar’s friends at a table near the piano.  He leans his arms on the bar and watches Meg as she mixes drinks for a waitress, hoping to catch her attention when she’s finished.  “Yes, well you should be.” 

Balthazar’s rich chuckle just barely carries over the music and buzz of conversation around them, and he slaps Castiel on the back.  “Well now that you’ve done your duty and shown him off in public, I suppose I can release you from your promise to spend some time with me so you can go home and let him pound you into the mattress.” 

It’s tempting to tell Balthazar that Dean is a surprisingly needy bottom, but his friend does not need to know the details of their sex life, no matter how close he is to Castiel.  “How kind of you,” he deadpans. 

“Have another round of drinks, and then get the hell out of my bar, Cassie,” Balthazar says with a wink.  He wraps an arm around Castiel’s shoulder and gives him an affectionate half-hug before wandering away to speak with a group of flashy young women on the other side of the room. 

Castiel smiles after him.  It’s nice to know that Balthazar approves of Dean.  He had expected things to be tense the first time Bal and Dean met a few weeks ago, but despite Dean’s outward annoyance with Bal’s Snooty British act they had actually gotten along quite well.  And tonight they had spent a lot of time talking about cooking.  It was Balthazar’s truest passion despite the fact that he had failed to keep his restaurant from going under due to his inability to share his kingdom with “the vassals”, as he liked to call the sous chefs he employed. 

His eyes drift to where Dean is sitting.  There is a woman at the piano, and Dean has dropped his conversation with the people around him and is leaning back in his chair, listening with his eyes closed.  Castiel’s breath hitches at the sight.  Dean’s throat is exposed, and his lips are turned up in a small smile of enjoyment.  It’s a trusting position, as if he’s offering himself up to someone. 

Feeling rather possessive, Castiel steps away from the bar with the intention of taking what Dean is offering.  Meg is still busy, and he no longer has the patience for one more round.  He needs to take Dean home _now_. 

“Hello, Castiel.” 

Michael’s voice freezes Castiel in place.  His stomach twists with anxiety as he slowly turns to face the man who until recently had been his favorite obsession next to coming up with recipes for new desserts.  The last time he spoke to Michael had been a truly painful experience.  The deep voice that used to whisper praise and encouragement in his ears during mind blowing sex had turned mean and vicious, calling him names like _slut_ and _whore_.  He accused Castiel of needing more than one dick to please him and pointed out how many times he’d settled for sloppy seconds because Castiel wasn’t satisfied with whatever cock had been filling him before Michael called. 

Castiel has never felt uncomfortable about what he considered a healthy desire for sex, but Michael’s words had actually made him feel ashamed.  As if there were something wrong with him.  He acknowledges that it was probably not the best behavior to leave one man’s bed for another, but that doesn’t give Michael the right to tear him down for it when he’s the one who benefited from Castiel’s actions. 

He turns slowly and finds Michael smiling at him as if he’s truly happy that they ran into each other.  “Michael.  What brings you here?” 

Michael’s expression darkens for the briefest moment before morphing into something fond and indulgent.  “Maybe I came to see you.” 

That doesn’t make sense because Michael couldn’t possibly have known that he would be here.  “Really,” he says flatly. 

The other man steps closer and the cologne that used to make Castiel’s mouth water hits his senses.  Only now he finds it cloying and abrasive.  He leans away slightly, unable to hold still when Michael leans in as if to impart a secret.  “You look very nice tonight.” 

That was not what Castiel was expecting, and he jerks back more so he can see Michael’s face.  Michael is still looking at him like they are lovers, and he’s expecting something from Castiel.  It’s very uncomfortable, because Castiel thinks he made it very clear that their relationship, if it could really be called that, is over.  He forces a thin smile, determined to be polite but aloof.  “Thank you.” 

“You would look far better naked and in my bed.” 

Castiel’s jaw clenches angrily, and he takes a breath to tell Michael he no longer has the right to make those kinds of observations but he startles when he feels Michael’s fingers gripping his wrist.  He has to look down to make sure it’s really happening because his mind can’t wrap around the fact that Michael is touching him uninvited when Dean is sitting just a few feet away. 

Castiel takes a step back and tries to extract his wrist from the other man’s grip.  “I am not here by myself, Michael.” 

Ignoring the warning in Castiel’s voice, Michael reaches for him again, this time catching his elbow in a firm grip.  He leans in and brushes his lips against Castiel’s jaw.  His fingers tighten painfully around Castiel’s arm.  “Who cares? Come to my place and play with me.” 

Wrenching his arm out of Michael’s grip is probably going to leave a few bruises behind, but Castiel’s skin is crawling and he needs to get space between them now.  A few months ago he would have been thrilled to receive this kind of attention from Michael, and would have pounced on the invitation without regard to whoever he might have been abandoning a date with.  But not now.  Not ever again in fact. 

He has no feelings for Michael anymore.  Only now is he realizing that they’ve been gone for a while, but loneliness and a sense of the familiar kept him going back to Michael when he called.  It angers him that he was too stupid to realize it until Dean came into his life.  He should have ended their affair a long time ago.  Maybe if he’d done so, Michael would have let him go easier. 

He has a feeling that this little display is not because Michael cares about him and wants him, but that he’s angry that someone else is playing with “his toy”. 

His stomach clenches uncomfortably at the thought, and he takes another half step back.  “I think not.” 

Michael’s expression darkens again, and he looks like he’s about to snap something but someone behind Castiel catches his attention.  “Back off, we’re having a conversation.” 

“Not what it looks like to me.” Dean appears next to Castiel who instantly relaxes when a strong hand comes to rest low on his back.  He smiles at Michael, but it doesn’t reach his eyes which glitter with green malice.  “In fact, it looks more like harassment.” 

“Cassie and I are friends,” Michael says in a tone that would sound friendly to someone who doesn’t know him as well as Castiel does.  “And we were just planning on getting out of here, so you can go play Hero for someone who needs you.” 

The insinuation that Michael thought Castiel was actually going to leave with him makes Castiel tense up, but Dean speaks before he can. 

“Is that so?” Dean sounds sincerely friendly and when Castiel glances at him, he’s even smiling.  But there’s something dangerous in his expression that sends a thrill up Castiel’s spine.  He looks down at Castiel and lifts a questioning brow.  “Did you want to leave, babe?” 

He does.  Desperately.  And not just because he wants to get away from Michael.  He wants to push Dean on the floor and ride him till they’re both exhausted and breathless and slick with bodily fluids.  Somehow he manages to keep the desire out of his voice when he answers.  “Yes, I believe I’m ready to go.” 

Dean keeps up the charade of nonchalance.  “Do we need to find Balthazar and tell him we’re leaving?” 

“No.” 

Dean looks up at Michael whose dark eyes are narrow with rage.  “I guess I’ll be taking my boyfriend home.  You have a good night.” 

The hand on Castiel’s back nudges him gently, and Castiel takes the direction and steps between Michael and Dean to make his way to the door.  He glances up at the other man briefly.  “Goodnight, Michael.” 

Dean’s hand is a gentle weight against his spine all the way to the coat room where they pick up Dean’s wool jacket and the new trench coat Castiel found to replace the torn one.  When Dean stops touching him so they can don their outerwear, Castiel misses it.  But the touch immediately returns as they walk outside into the cold December night. 

Their breath clouds around them as they walk silently to the Impala and snow crunches under their feet, and Castiel waits nervously for some kind of reaction from Dean.  He doesn’t know if he expects jealousy or irritation, but he thinks there should be something, not just this silence. 

It’s not until they’re seated in the car and Dean has turned on the engine to warm it up, that he finally turns to Castiel.  “So that was Michael?” 

He doesn’t look upset, merely curious.  But Castiel hastens to reassure him that meeting Michael there was a surprise.  “Yes.  But I was not planning on leaving with him.” 

Finally a hint of something flashes in those green eyes, but it doesn’t seem to be directed at Castiel.  “I know.  I saw him talking to you and I could tell you were upset.” He reaches out and runs the back of his fingers, which are slightly cold now from the walk to the car, over Castiel’s cheekbone before sliding them into the hair at the back of his neck.  He doesn’t pull Castiel closer, or put any pressure on the touch, but merely rests his hand there.  “Are you alright?” 

Castiel shivers, but it’s not from the cold.  Despite how chilly Dean’s fingers are, the touch warms him and he leans into it slightly.  “I’m trying to remember if he was like that before, and I just missed the signs.” 

“Like what?” There’s a thread of danger in Dean’s soft words. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel sighs.  “Controlling? Possessive? He never seemed to care if I slept with anyone else before, so I don’t know where this is coming from." 

They lapse into silence, but it’s not uncomfortable.  The radio came on with the engine and a song by Journey is playing softly.  Castiel scoots across the seat and rests his cheek on Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean shifts so that he can wrap an arm around Castiel’s back.  The position isn’t comfortable since Dean’s limited in his movements by the steering wheel.  But his body is strong and warm, and he smells like wool and cologne and Dean, and Castiel soaks in the comfort of his presence. 

“Can we stay at your place tonight?” Castiel asks softly. 

“Yeah, man, of course,” Dean murmurs.  He moves, pulling away until Castiel is forced to sit up and look at him.  It’s too dark to see the color of his eyes, but Castiel can see the worried furrow in his brow illuminated in the parking lot lights.  “Cas, if you’re afraid he might do something...” 

Castiel shakes his head.  Michael’s behavior tonight was distressing, but he doubts he would go any further.  “I’m not afraid of Michael.” He manages a crooked grin.  “I just like your bed better.  It’s more comfortable.” 

Dean doesn’t look completely convinced, but he responds to Castiel’s teasing with a smirk.  “I’m telling you, that memory foam is magic.” He turns back to the wheel, while Castiel moves back to his place in the passenger seat.  With a smirk he starts pulling out of the parking space.  “Let’s go home and bounce on it.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

Castiel’s laughter is full of delight.  Sometimes Dean can be such an adolescent, but always in the best ways.  “Yes,” he agrees.  “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.” 

When they get to Dean’s house, they don’t quite make it to the bed.  Castiel uses Dean’s tie to force him to his knees in the middle of the living room, and holds it like a leash while Dean goes down on him.  When he’s close, Castiel pulls him away, ignoring his protests and drops down on his knees with him, attacking Dean’s mouth with his own. 

They end up grinding together on the floor amidst a pile of half removed clothing, and it’s the sight of that tie still around Dean’s throat that pushes Castiel over the edge until he’s spilling his release between their sweaty bodies. 

Dean flips them over so that he’s braced over Castiel’s body.  The tie is loose around his neck, and the ends of it brush back and forth over Castiel’s chest with Dean’s movements.  His eyes glint with a dangerous light as he strokes himself and comes in hot splashes across Castiel’s pelvis and softening dick.  When his head drops between his shoulders and his body heaves with the aftermath of his orgasm, Castiel reaches up and grabs the tie again, tugging it until Dean lets himself collapse on top him, not caring about the slick mess smearing over their skin. 

It’s not until their bodies begin to cool and Dean’s weight has become uncomfortable that Castiel speaks.  He breathes the words into Dean’s shoulder, emphasizing them with a soft kiss against the skin there.  “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

Dean grunts and lifts himself up.  He grimaces at the mess between them, before meeting Castiel’s eyes.  “For what?” 

Castiel looks away, and guilt twists in his stomach.  “For not being angry at me about Michael.” 

“Why would I be angry at you?” Dean demands.  He lifts himself until he can kneel and waits for Castiel to sit up. 

He sounds so reasonable, and honestly confused.  Castiel’s heart swells, and he leans across the space between them to press a kiss against the pink bow of Dean’s swollen lips.  “I don’t know,” he admits when he sits back.  “I just thought...  I don’t know what I thought.” 

“I’ll tell you what I think,” Dean says lightly, a boyish grin lifting the corners of his mouth.  “Michael’s a douche.” 

Castiel barks a short laugh.  He reaches up and runs a hand over his face and up into his hair.  It’s damp with sweat, and probably looks like he doesn’t know how to comb it.  It always looks wild after Dean’s had his way with him.  “Yes,” he agrees.  “I think you are right.” 

“Damn right I am.” The words are a grunt as Dean pushes himself to his feet.  He holds a hand down to help Castiel up.  “Come on, let’s go take a shower.” 

Castiel accepts his help, and his dick twinges with interest when Dean hauls him to his feet in an impressive display of strength.  If he keeps pulling stunts like that, Castiel is going to be ready for round two in a big hurry. 

“Hey Cas?” Dean asks a little later as he’s rinsing soap out of his hair.  “I kinda want to put up Christmas lights tomorrow.  Wanna help?” 

Reaching up to rub the water out of Dean’s face, Castiel waits until he can see those pretty green eyes blinking down at him.  He smiles and pulls Dean into a kiss that is gentle and sweet and far too tame considering they’re both naked and pressed up against each other.  But it’s not meant to start anything.  It’s just meant to convey a fraction of the happiness Dean makes him feel all the time.  “Yes,” he says when he finally releases the other man.  “I think that sounds like fun.” 

Dean’s arms had come around his waist during the kiss, and his hold on Castiel is tight, but not confining.  His eyes are warm, and his smile full of affection. 

And Castiel knows without a doubt that he loves Dean. 

“What’s that look for?” Dean asks, his head tilting with curiosity. 

Castiel smiles shyly but doesn’t look away.  He’s not ready to say it yet, but it’s nice to know Dean can tell something is up.  Maybe he’ll tell him soon.  He’s not sure when, but probably before too long.  For now, he deflects with a subject he knows Dean will latch on to.  “Whose turn is it to make breakfast?” 

Dean brightens.  “Yours.  Definitely yours.” 

It’s actually Dean’s turn and they both know it.  But they both know that Castiel isn’t going to deny it.  “Do you have the stuff for peach pancakes?” They are Dean’s favorite. 

“Hell yeah, I do.” Dean pulls Castiel in for a tighter hug, pressing his face against Castiel’s neck.  “Damn, I’m spoiled.” 

 _You are loved,_ Castiel thinks.  Out loud he says “No kidding.” 

Dean’s laughter echoes in the tiny room, and it’s a beautiful sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! I had a little bit of writer's block and a little bit of burnout, so I finally took that break I'd been promising myself. I'm finally feeling like I'm getting back on track so updates should be happening a couple times a week again.
> 
> Oh and I commissioned some [gorgeous art from Thunderjellyfish](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/post/110833997277/commission-for-ltleflrt-from-her-wonderful-fic). I think she's still doing commissions, so you should check her out :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks to [jupiterjames](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james) for letting me whine at her and for talking me out of giving up on this story when I got super frustrated last night. 
> 
> At this point, I feel like I need to remind people about some of the not so nice tags on this story. It's been disgustingly fluffy so far, but some bad things are about to start going down.

The buttery smell of pancakes is what finally pulls Dean out of the half sleep he's been hovering in since Castiel got out of bed earlier.  He stretches, sliding his hand under the pillow Castiel used and pulls it against his chest, nuzzling his nose against the fabric and inhaling his boyfriend's scent.  He feels like a complete sap, but that doesn't stop him from cuddling the pillow for another few minutes. 

He can hear music coming from downstairs, and he rolls his eyes.  It's more of that electronic crap that Castiel seems to like best in the mornings.  He says it energizes him and makes it easier for him to function when he has to get up at four in the morning for work, so Dean doesn't complain about it.  Much. 

A glance at the clock says Castiel let him sleep in until nearly seven, and Dean wrinkles his nose.  It still feels too early to get up, but his stomach is grumbling and breakfast is calling his name.  He rolls off the edge of the bed, landing on his feet and heads straight for the bathroom.  They went to bed naked, so he grabs underwear and pajamas on his way. 

Once he's finished his morning routine, he pads down the stairs toward the kitchen.  He finds Castiel at the stove, head bopping to the music playing from his smartphone which is sitting on the table.  Dean stops in the doorway and leans against the frame just watching for a moment. 

Castiel looks really good in his kitchen. 

A few months ago that thought might have terrified Dean.  Yeah, he'd been lonely but he hadn't been anywhere near ready to get domestic with someone.  Yet here he is, watching his boyfriend make him breakfast and wishing that every morning were like this instead of just once or twice a week. 

_Love sure can change a guy._  

His heart skips a beat at the thought, but he doesn't shy away from it.  Maybe he's just outgrown the insecurities and fears that held him back with people he's dated in the past. 

Or maybe Castiel is just that awesome. 

He doesn't know, and he doesn't really care.  He loves Cas, and it feels fucking fantastic so he's just going to go with it. 

With his heart bouncing around inside his rib cage with affection, he crosses the room and slinks his arms around Castiel's stomach.  He slips his hands up under the soft fabric of the grey AC/DC t-shirt Cas is borrowing so he can touch the soft skin of his belly, and presses his chest against Castiel's back.  "Mornin'," he murmurs before pressing a kiss just under Castiel's ear. 

Castiel leans back into him and tilts his head to give him better access.  His body is hard and warm, and Dean wants to sink into him.  He tightens the hug and buries his face against Castiel's neck and just holds him. 

"Are you alright?" Castiel asks softly.  His movements are careful, so as to avoid dislodging Dean while he continues tending to the pancakes on the electric griddle that Dean bought specifically for this purpose. 

"Yeah, 'm great," Dean mumbles.  "Just like having you here in the morning." 

Castiel sets aside his spatula, and turns, forcing Dean to loosen his grip.  He drapes his arms around Dean's shoulders and leans up to give him a proper kiss. 

Mmm, he tastes like coffee.  Dean wants some of that.  But not as much as he wants to stand there and make out with Castiel. 

When they finally break apart, Castiel smiles warmly at him.  "You just like my pancakes." 

"Hell yeah," Dean teases back.  He lets Castiel go, so he can get back to cooking and makes his way over to the coffee maker.  He grimaces as he pours himself a cup.  "Still not a fan of your music though." 

Castiel makes a scoffing sound and rolls his eyes as he adds fresh batter to the griddle.  "Fine, you can change it." 

Dean chuckles triumphantly and heads over to the table to plop down in one of the chairs.  He grabs Castiel's phone and pulls up the music app.  A few swipes of his thumb, and he finds the playlist Castiel made specifically for him.  He could easily go put on a record, or even go turn on iTunes on his computer, but he likes the fact that Castiel made a playlist for him, even if some of the music isn't quite what he'd prefer most of the time. 

The first song that comes up makes Dean grin, and he immediately taps it before he sets the phone back down.  

_Can’t explain all the feelings that you’re making me feel.  My heart’s in overdrive and you’re behind the steering wheel._   

Dean bops his head along to the music and watches Castiel finish plating up their breakfast.  He winks at Castiel when he brings the plates to the table just as the chorus starts. 

_I believe in a thing called love.  Just listen to the rhythm of my heart._

Dean starts mouthing along with the words. 

_There’s a chance we could make it now.  We’ll be rocking ‘til the sun goes down._

He bangs his head a little and air-guitars along with the next line. 

_I believe in a thing called love… oooh!_

Castiel rolls his eyes as he sets Dean’s plate on the table in front of him, but he does nothing to hide his amused smile.  But he does grab the hand towel he has draped over his shoulder and flicks it in Dean’s face.  “Eat.” 

Like Dean’s gonna say no.  He grabs the butter Castiel already has set out on the table and starts applying it to his pancakes, his mouth already watering in anticipation for the sweet treat. 

They're halfway through a third song, and the stacks of fluffy peachy goodness, when the music is interrupted by a ringtone.  Frowning, Castiel reaches out to pick it up.  Confusion creases his brow as he answers it and puts it up to his ear.  "Hello?  Yes, that's me." 

The pancakes go sour in Dean's mouth when he sees the blood drain from Castiel's face.  He sits straighter in his seat, suddenly on alert. 

"No… I left around six last night.  No, I didn't see anyone strange...  yes, of course I can.  Okay, I'll be there soon.  Thank you for letting me know." Castiel hangs up and the look he turns on Dean is full of hurt and confusion.  "I need to go home." 

"Cas, what's going on?" Dean's stomach twists.  All of his protective instincts are flaring up because Castiel looks far from okay. 

Castiel pushes his half-eaten breakfast away and gets up from his chair.  He starts to leave the kitchen, but stops and turns back to Dean.  His eyes are focused on something far away, and he doesn't look like he knows what he should be doing.  When he still doesn't answer, and he runs both hands through his hair, Dean gets up from the table and approaches him carefully.  Castiel finally looks up at him when Dean reaches out and touches him. 

"Dean," he breathes, almost as if he'd forgotten Dean was in the room and he's relieved to see him.  "Someone broke into my apartment last night.  That was the office; they called to let me know." 

"Shit," Dean bites out angrily.  He pulls Castiel into a hug and rubs both hands over his back in a soothing gesture when he realizes he's shaking.  "I'm sorry, Cas.  Let's go get dressed and I'll drive you over there." 

Castiel nods against his shoulder, and takes a deep breath.  His eyes are a little glassy when he looks up at Dean, but he looks calmer.  "First a mugging, and now this."  He lets out a tiny bitter laugh.  "I thought it was a safe neighborhood, but I guess not." 

It is actually a pretty nice area though.  The mugging was near the bank, but where Castiel's apartments are located is typically quiet.  Dean makes a mental note to get a few patrols to go through there during the week.  Usually a random drive through is enough to discourage the petty thieves from targeting an area.  It’s not like Castiel’s apartments are going to be big money for them anyway. 

Half an hour later he parks the Impala in front of Castiel's building.  The office manager asked them to stop in first, so Dean follows Castiel, all the while searching the area with sharp eyes.  The thief has to be long gone by now, but that doesn't stop him from keeping an eye out for anyone skulking around. 

There's a cop car parked in front of the management office, and Dean recognizes it as the one used by Spengler and Zeddmore.  He sighs, because he's not really looking forward to running into them.  They're obnoxiously competitive with him and Benny, which is ridiculous ecause Dean and Benny aren't playing whatever game they're supposed to be competing in. 

Inside the office they find the Dumbass-Duo speaking with the manager.  Zeddmore looks up first and sees them.  His eyes skim over Castiel, not recognizing him, but then his eyes land on Dean and widen in surprise.  "Winchester, aren't you off duty?" 

Dean guides Castiel over to Zeddmore since Spengler seems to be occupied with getting a report from the manager.  He’s grateful because Ed gets on his nerves less.  Only slightly, but on some days that makes all the difference.  "Hey Zeddmore.  I am off today, but Castiel lives in the apartments here and his was broken into." 

Zeddmore winces and turns his attention to Castiel.  "I'm sorry, sir.  It's a mess up there." 

Castiel stiffens and Dean moves closer to him, hoping that his presence will offer comfort.  The movement doesn't go unnoticed by Zeddmore, who shoots Dean a curious look.  But his attention goes right back to Castiel when Dean glares at him.  

They speak for a few moments, Zeddmore asking questions and noting Castiel's answers in his notebook.  He casts Dean another sideways look when Castiel explains where he was, but luckily decides to keep his trap shut about it.  He always was the more astute of the two officers. 

"Do you have any enemies who might have done this?" Zeddmore asks.  Castiel tilts his head in confusion.  “No, I don’t...  why would you ask that?” 

Zeddmore shifts uncomfortably, and Dean’s hackles go up.  When a cop looks like he doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, the news is usually _really_ bad.  “I’m sorry; it’s just that we don’t think this was a robbery.” 

Before he knows what he’s doing, Dean’s hand snaps out and he’s fisting the front of Zeddmore’s coat and pulling him close.  “What the hell does that mean?” 

The shorter man squawks at the sudden movement, but doesn’t try to pull away.  He grimaces and addresses his answer to Dean.  “It would probably be easier to show you.” 

A hand on his shoulder brings Dean’s attention around to Castiel who still looks worried, but there’s an amused twist to his lips.  “Dean, he’s here to help.” 

“Yeah,” Zeddmore tacks on.  But he practically shrinks into his coat when Dean turns back to glare at him. 

Dean lets him go, resisting the urge to shove him back.  As much as Zeddmore and Spengler bug the shit out of him, they’re doing their job and they’re not the real target for his anger.  “Alright, let’s go up and see the place.” 

They interrupt Spengler so they can talk to the manager.  He changed the locks for Castiel and gives him a new set of keys.  His eyes are sympathetic as he explains that he’ll get Castiel the information he needs to file an insurance claim gathered together for him when he’s ready.  Castiel thanks him quietly and then follows when Zeddmore and Spengler lead them up to the apartment. 

“What are you doing here?” Spengler asks in an aside as they tramp up the stairs behind Zeddmore and Castiel. 

Dean wants to snap that it’s none of his damn business, but Spengler is going to clue in to what’s going on as soon as he reads Zeddmore’s notes.  He clears his throat and looks away from the shorter man when he answers.  “Cas was with me last night.  I drove him over when the office manager called him.” 

Spengler’s face scrunches up in confusion because of course he’s never been the sharpest tool in the shed.  “Why was he with you?” 

“Dance lessons,” Dean answers simply.  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dean almost laughs at the other man’s perplexed expression.  He decides to give a few more hints.  “The Horizontal Tango, the Manmeat Mambo, the-“ 

“Oh my God!” Spengler hisses.  “You and-” he gestures at Castiel instead of finishing his sentence. 

Dean shrugs.  “Yeah.” 

Spengler is staring at him like he’s never seen him before.  It’s both unnerving and amusing.  “So… you’re like, gay now?” 

“I’m like, going to smash your throat with my fist,” Dean growls.  

Spengler doesn’t even flinch.  He’s accustomed to Dean’s (mostly) empty threats.  “Dude, what does your dad think?” 

Dean stops on the second landing and crowds up close to Spengler, using his extra height to loom menacingly over the other man.  “He doesn’t know.  And if he finds out, you bet your ass I’ll know who to blame.” 

Despite being effectively cornered, Spengler scoffs, because he’s never been good at recognizing a truly dangerous situation.  “Give me a little credit man.  I’m not going to out you to your dad.” 

“You better not or I’ll feed you your own badge.  Now let’s go.” 

Taking the stairs two at a time, Dean catches up with Zeddmore and Castiel.  He reaches the top floor just a few seconds after they do, and what he sees stops him in his tracks.  The door is carved with slurs that make it obvious that Zeddmore was right and this wasn’t a robbery.  It was definitely a hate crime. 

Dean steps up behind Castiel and rubs his back through his coat.  “Cas…” 

“It’s alright, Dean,” Castiel says in a subdued voice.  “I’ve seen worse.”  He straightens, visibly bracing himself before reaching out with steady hands to unlock the shiny new door knob and deadbolt.  

Dean wants to be impressed by his calm, but it freaks him out.  Castiel shouldn’t be used to this kind of thing.  He wonders if Cas has dealt with some bullying, and it makes Dean’s heart clench painfully when he thinks about how bad it might have been for this level of vandalism to be better than things he might have experienced in his past. 

Inside the apartment is worse.  There is shredded paper everywhere, and on closer inspection Dean realizes they are what are left of Castiel’s recipe notebooks.  Nothing else seems to be damaged, but the tiny couch has been flipped over, and there are smears of something sticky on the TV screen. 

The kitchen is covered in food.  The fridge has been emptied and everything has been poured out on the counters and the floor.  The cupboards received the same treatment. 

The bathroom is covered in toothpaste and shampoo, and everything is pulled out of the drawers and medicine cabinet.  The bedroom looks like the same hurricane went through it. 

“Jesus Christ,” Dean murmurs as he looks around. 

“Does anything appear to be missing?” Zeddmore asks quietly. 

Castiel is standing in the center of the living room staring down at the papers.  He doesn’t answer right away.  Instead he bends down and picks up a sheet that had been torn from the notebook.  His expression is blank as his eyes scan the handwriting. 

“Cas?” Dean steps close to him and runs the pads of his fingers over the back of Castiel’s neck.  “You okay?” 

Tilting his head into the touch, Castiel takes a deep breath in through his nose and sighs it out through his mouth.  He ignores Dean’s question, and he turns to Zeddmore, looking more calm than he probably is.  “Not that I can tell right away.  I can contact you if I need to later, right?” 

“Of course,” Spengler answers over Zeddmore .  “We can always add things to the report later.” 

“Thank you,” Castiel murmurs.  “It will probably take a while to clean this up and figure out if anything was stolen.  I don’t keep anything of great value here, so I doubt anything is missing, but I will let you know.” 

Zeddmore and Spengler voice their agreement, and give Castiel the information he needs to contact them before they leave.  Dean thanks them quietly on their way out, and asks them to keep him updated on anything they find.  Technically they shouldn’t since he’s involved with the victim, but all cops know that those rules aren’t worth a sack of beans. 

Castiel has begun picking up the papers scattered everywhere, and Dean shuts the door and joins him.  He’s not sure what to say, but he feels like he needs to say something, anything to break the quiet. 

“You don’t need to help me, Dean,” Castiel says softly, beating him to it.  “I can take care of this.” 

Dean straightens, and the papers in his hand crumple when his fingers clench angrily.  He immediately relaxes his fist and attempts to smooth the pages back out.  Most of them look like they’re salvageable and he doesn’t want to ruin them.  “You’re kidding, right?” 

Castiel doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t turn around.  Dean hurries to close the space between them and steps in front of the other man, forcing him to look up at him.  “Cas,” he says softly.  “I’m gonna be here for you, okay?” 

His words seem to break some kind of barrier that Castiel has put up around himself and he leans into Dean.  “Thank you,” he rasps against Dean’s throat.  “I don’t know why I thought...  I just...” 

“Hey, shit like this’ll mess with anyone’s head,” Dean says against Castiel’s hair.  “I get it, Cas.  I get it.” 

Castiel’s arms come up to wrap around his waist and Dean hugs him tighter.  He wants to find the son of a bitch who did this and rip his throat out with his teeth, but at the same time he wants to take Castiel home and wrap him in a blanket and hold him.  He can’t do either right now, but he can help clear up the mess. 

“C’mon, Cas.  Let's get this cleaned up.” 

Dean tackles the kitchen, which is a pretty huge project by itself, while Castiel finishes picking up the shredded notebooks.  He sets the living room to rights and starts in on the bathroom long before Dean is finished.  But every surface is shining like a Mister Clean commercial in both rooms by the time they’re done.  They work on the bedroom together, refolding clothes and putting them away. 

It’s a relief to find that there’s no damage to anything besides the front door.  Other than that, Castiel’s notebooks took the most damage.  Dean isn’t sure why the vandal targeted them specifically, although judging by the mess in the rest of the apartment he’s assuming it’s because shredded paper everywhere is shocking to see, and vandals usually go for what will have the most emotional impact. 

Castiel is quiet and subdued most of the day and Dean can’t really blame him.  He wants to talk to Cas, to get him to open up about how he feels.  He also wants to tear his hair out because he’s shit at the touchy feely stuff and he wishes that he had even a tenth of Sam’s skill at coaxing people out of their shells.  Sam can pull a face and suddenly people open up to him and tell him their life stories. 

Because he’s been so quiet all day, Dean is a little surprised when Castiel speaks as they’re helping each other make the bed.  “I don’t want to stay here tonight.” 

Dean’s head snaps up.  Castiel is staring at the bed, eyes dull.  The sheets and bedding had been pulled off, and luckily nothing else had really been done to it.  Dean suspects it’s because the douche bag who messed the place up had already dumped out all the food before he got to the bedroom, otherwise he may have brought some of it in here. 

“That’s cool, Cas,” Dean says softly.  “You can stay with me.” 

Castiel finally looks at him, and the blank mask he’s worn all day slips, leaving his expression tired and haunted.  “Thank you, Dean.” 

“Hey,” Dean drops his side of the bedspread and hurries around the edge of the bed to where Castiel is standing.  He pulls him into a hug.  “It’s not a problem.  You can stay with me as long as you’d like.” 

“Can we go now?” Castiel asks against his shoulder.  “I’m exhausted.” 

It’s no wonder really.  It got dark about an hour ago and Dean’s gas tank is feeling pretty low too.  They couldn’t salvage much from the kitchen, but there had been a few cans of soup in the cupboard that the vandal hadn’t bothered to destroy and that’s all they’d had for lunch.  It’s way past dinner time, and Castiel is probably as hungry as Dean is. 

“Yeah, you pack what you need, and let’s get out of here.” 

Soon Dean is tossing a duffle bag of Castiel’s clothing into Baby’s trunk next to a box filled with the pages of recipes that Castiel saved.  He slams the trunk closed and walks around the car to get behind the wheel.  Castiel is slumped in the passenger seat, staring out the window.  But he turns and gives Dean a tired smile when he starts up the engine. 

“So how do you feel about burgers for dinner?” Dean asks as he backs out of the parking lot.  

“The greasier the better.” 

The best burgers are at the Roadhouse, but Dean doesn’t think either of them have the energy to deal with a crowd, so he finds a Five Guys instead.  He has Castiel order ahead on an app he has loaded on his smartphone so he can just run inside and pick it up.  They eat in the car because they’re both too ravenous to wait until they get back to Dean’s house. 

Dean is watching Castiel lick the grease off his fingers when he gets an idea.  “Hey, Cas.” 

Castiel slants him a curious look, and Dean is struck by how damn cute he is.  He’s fuckin’ sexy with his wild hair and his kissable lips, but right now, with his fingers in his mouth and his eyes wide and questioning, Dean can’t help smiling a little.  Because damn, he’s _cute_. 

“What, Dean?” Castiel says when he’s done licking his fingers. 

Dean blinks.  What had he been about to say?  Oh yeah.  “We never got around to putting up Christmas lights.” 

Castiel sighs and reaches for the pile of napkins on the seat between them.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I wish we could have spent your day off doing that instead.” 

“Day’s not over yet,” Dean points out as he plucks a fry from the greasy paper bag sitting on the seat between them and pops it in his mouth. 

“You still want to put up lights?” 

“Yeah, but I’ve got an idea.” 

Castiel stares at him for a moment while he decides.  He’s obviously worn out, but there’s a spark of interest in his eyes.  It’s the brightest his expression has been since his phone rang that morning at breakfast, and Dean’s own exhaustion melts away under excitement. 

“Alright,” Castiel finally concedes after a moment.  “Let’s put up lights.” 

Dean shoves the last bite of his burger in his mouth and wads up the wrapper.  He throws it in the bag with what’s left of his fries.  “Awesome,” he mumbles around a mouth full of meat and cheese. 

After he’s cleaned most of the grease off his fingers with a wad of napkins, he drives home, but he tells Castiel to stay in the car.  He runs inside the garage and grabs a box marked “Outdoor Lights” and hurries back to shove them in the back seat.  When he gets behind the wheel again, Castiel frowns at him in confusion.  “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” 

Fifteen minutes later, they’re parked outside Heavenly Delights.  Dean turns to Castiel and smiles at him.  “C’mon, Cas.  This place needs a little holiday cheer.” 

Castiel stares at him wide eyed for a moment and Dean starts to wonder if maybe this was a bad idea.  He knows Castiel spent Thanksgiving with his family, but he doesn’t know how he feels about holidays in general.  And what if he doesn’t celebrate Christmas?  Dean is about to say nevermind and suggest going home to bed, when Castiel lunges across the seat and slams their mouths together in a rough kiss. 

Kissing back is a no brainer.  Literally.  Dean isn’t even aware he’s kissing Castiel until the other man pulls away from him and he tries to chase his lips.  He blinks a few times before it occurs to him that the kiss is over.  Castiel’s eyes are glassy with unshed tears, but he’s grinning so wide his cheeks must surely ache.  

“So… yes?” Dean asks, just to be sure. 

In answer, Castiel scrambles to get out of the car.  He ducks back in through the back door and grabs the box.  “Come on, Dean.  Let’s light this place up.” 

Dean laughs and hurries to get out of the car too.  “Alright! Sounds like a plan!” 

A light snow is drifting down around them by the time they've emptied the box and lined the windows with strings of multicolored lights, and Dean can't feel his fingers or his face.  But Castiel is a warm presence against his side when they finally step back to admire their handiwork. 

The snowflakes reflect the lights and muffle every sound except for their breathing, and Dean can't help thinking it feels just a little bit magical.  "It's gaudy as fuck," he says through chattering teeth.  Now that he's not moving, he's suddenly really feeling the cold. 

Castiel elbows him in the ribs, but Dean can see he's grinning.  "It's perfect." 

Dean wraps an arm around Castiel's shoulders and pulls him closer.  "That's what I said!" 

Castiel snorts a laugh and leans into the embrace.  "Assbutt." 

The insult is ridiculous, but Dean generously decides not to point it out.  "Whatever, man.  Let's go home and defrost." 

He misses the soft look Castiel gives him at his slip of the tongue, but he sure as hell notices when Castiel turns to him and pulls him into a feather light kiss.  "Yes," Castiel agrees softly when their lips separate.  "Let's go home." 

_Huh_ , Dean thinks.  _That sounds nice._  

Maybe he'll have to look into making it permanent.


	21. Chapter 21

Castiel is only half dressed when Dean's sleepy grumble comes from the direction of the bed.  "Why are you up?" 

"I still have a business to run." Castiel's voice is muffled as he pulls a t-shirt over his head.  He tugs the hem down over his hips as he moves over to the side of the bed.  "I am opening with Gabriel today." 

Dean rolls onto his side and snakes his arms out of the blanket and around Castiel's hips.  "Dude we were up till midnight." With a surprising show of strength for someone who still sounds mostly asleep he pulls Castiel down on top of him and then rolls until he's mostly on top of him.  He nuzzles his face into Castiel's shoulder so his next words are difficult to make out.  "Call in sick." 

The suggestion is very tempting.  Castiel's eyelids feel like they're lined with sandpaper and his muscles ache for more rest.  What little sleep he'd managed was plagued with nightmares and he really prefers being awake and productive to sleep right now.  But he allows himself another few minutes to enjoy Dean's cuddling. 

He turns enough to press his lips against Dean's hair, wiggling his nose when the soft strands tickle it.  In an ideal world he could stay in this bed with this man and ignore his responsibilities, but he's happy to accept a few stolen moments along with his reality.  "Don't you have to work today?" He murmurs. 

The groan he gets in response makes him smile.  Dean is not a morning person. 

"Yeah, but not this early." He sighs, his breath hot and damp against Castiel's throat.  "Guess I better get up and take you to work." 

The downside to staying the night at Dean's house is that he's no longer within walking distance of the bakery.  He hadn’t thought about that when he asked to stay over last night and now he feels guilty.  Dean has a very important job and doing it on three hours of sleep could endanger him.  For the first time since he sold it Castiel really misses his car.  "You don't have to do that.  I can call a cab." 

Dean makes an unhappy noise and cuddles even closer, throwing his thigh across Castiel's legs.  "Don't be stupid.  I'll give you a ride." 

Knowing he has to get up now before the temptation to go back to sleep becomes too strong, Castiel moves to disentangle himself from Dean's embrace.  "You need more sleep.  Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." 

His efforts prove useless because Dean is freakishly strong for being mostly asleep.  He wraps Castiel up tighter.  "Dude, you’re not taking a cab." 

"Dean-" 

"Take my car," Dean continues.  "Keys are in my jacket pocket." 

Castiel stopped struggling.  He's always had the impression that Dean is overly attached to his car, and not the type to let others drive it.  "Really?  How will you get to work?" 

"Benny'll pick me up." He sounds like he's falling back to sleep, so the threat that comes next is almost unintelligible.  "Just don't hurt my Baby, Cas.  Or no sex for a month." 

Castiel suppresses his laughter because he wants Dean to go back to sleep, and his cheeks ache from the effort.  Dean's grip has loosened enough for him to wriggle free and he finally gains his freedom. 

He pauses to look down at his sleeping lover.  The bedroom light is off, and the only illumination is coming from the light in the hall which Castiel flipped on so he could see enough to get dressed.  In the dim light he can see Dean has curled into the empty space Castiel left in the bed.  The blanket is twisted around his legs and his t-shirt is rucked up around his ribs.  He looks like an overgrown little boy.  He's adorable, and Castiel has to resist the urge to reach down and ruffle his hair. 

With a fond smile he finally turns away from the bed and finishes getting ready.  When he's ready to leave he leans over the bed and presses a kiss to Dean's temple.  "Goodbye, Dean," he whispers.  "I'll see you tonight." 

Dean snuffles a little, turning his face into the pillow before murmuring.  "Bye, Cas.  Love you." 

Castiel freezes and stares wide eyed at the sleeping man.  He wants to shake him awake and ask him to say it again.  To find out if he really means it. 

He doesn't though.  Dean needs his sleep and Castiel needs to get out of there soon or he'll be late.  He straightens and backs out of the room.  His heart is thumping, fast and hard like he's been jogging. 

He knows he's grinning like a mad man, but he can't help it.  He's pretty sure nothing will be able to make him quit smiling for the rest of the day. 

Gabriel is already at the bakery and getting started on warming the ovens and mixing dough.  He looks up when Castiel comes in and does a double take.  "Wow, what the hell's got you so cheerful?" 

Castiel is not about to tell Gabriel the truth because he'll never hear the end of it so he settles on only telling part of the story.  "Dean let me borrow his car." 

"Um okay." Gabriel's brow furrows with confusion.  "I thought you liked walking to work.  Isn't that why you haven't bought a new car yet?" 

Damn, he forgot to tell Gabriel what happened.  His mood dims a little and he takes a deep breath to brace himself for Gabriel's reaction.  "I stayed at Dean's house last night because my apartment got broken into and I was feeling a little shaken up.  He let me borrow his car so he could sleep longer." 

There's a loud clang when Gabriel drops the pans he'd been moving onto the countertop.  His eyes are wide as he rushes to Castiel's side to look him over, as if he's checking for physical damage.  It's understandable because there is a pink scar marring Castiel's arm from the mugging a few months back.  He looks relieved when he doesn't see any bruises or bandages, but only for a moment before his gold eyes darken with anger.  "Dammit, Cassie, why didn't you tell me?" 

“I was busy,” Castiel says softly, remember how much work it had taken to clean up the mess the vandal left behind. 

His mood dips further when he thinks about all his shredded notebooks.  He is still afraid to allow the vague suspicion floating around in the back of his mind to materialize.  But it’s there, plaguing him, giving him nightmares. 

Gabriel is staring at him like he’s off his rocker.  “Busy?  You were too busy to call and tell me you’d been robbed?” 

“ _You_ were also busy,” Castiel points out.  “Running my bakery, and keeping me in business on my day off.” He punches Gabriel lightly in the arm in an attempt to lighten the mood.  “Thank you for that.” 

His brother is not impressed and he spends the rest of the morning alternating between giving Castiel the silent treatment, lecturing him about not communicating with his “favorite brother”, and cracking horrible jokes to lighten the mood. 

The jokes actually work, in conjunction with the colored lights shining from the front windows and the memory of Dean’s parting words that morning.  After spending several hours baking, sneaking bites of his favorite pastries, and seeing the Christmas lights every time he goes out to run the cash register, he manages to forget the dark suspicion that had been haunting him since he first walked into his apartment and saw his notebooks shredded and scattered across the floor. 

His mood is improved even further when Dean shows up at lunch time with Benny on his heels.  Dean is grinning at him as he swaggers toward the counter. 

"Hey, Cas." 

"Hello, Dean." Castiel wonders if Dean remembers what he said that morning.  He was mostly asleep, and it's possible that even if he remembers, he might think it was a dream. 

Dean glances over his shoulder at the lights in the window.  "I think we may have gone a bit overboard." 

"I dunno," Benny drawls.  "I think it's festive.  I like it." 

Castiel is going to make sure Benny gets an extra treat with their order.  

Dean laughs.  "Yeah, okay, whatever." 

It's old routine now to fill an order for the two men.  They both have their favorites, and Castiel adds an extra blueberry donut for Benny and gives Dean two slices of pecan pie.  Benny grumbles about the fit of his uniform as usual, but his eyes glitter with pleasure. 

Once their desserts are boxed and paid for, Castiel expects a wave and a cheerful goodbye, but Dean lingers.  He looks uncertain, chewing at his bottom lip, but determined.  Castiel is just about to ask him what he wants when Dean leans across the counter and cups a hand around the back of his neck to pull him into a chaste kiss.  His cheeks are apple red when he pulls back, nearly erasing his freckles with the bright flush under his skin. 

"Uh, I'll be home around eight," Dean mumbles.  Instead of looking at Castiel, he's staring intently at the boxed pie in his hands.  "I mean, uh, if you're staying over again tonight...  I mean, it's okay if you need the car to get home-" he blushes even harder when Benny makes a choked noise behind him, "I can have Sam come with me to pick it up tonight." 

Castiel blinks.  Dean just kissed him in front of Benny.  Dean has never kissed him in front of anyone.  He hasn't held back on small touches and one armed hugs and even holding hands in a few rare cases, but never a kiss. 

He doesn't mind, of course.  He's experienced enough homophobia in his life that he's used to keeping obvious PDAs to a minimum.  And he knows it's even more difficult for Dean since he's just barely discovering his sexuality and coming out to his friends and family.  So Castiel is in no way oblivious to how important something as simple as a peck on the lips in front of a friend is to Dean. 

_And_ he just revealed that he loaned his car out to Castiel.  Benny's reaction confirms exactly how big of a deal that is. 

Castiel is certain his smile makes him look like a love struck idiot, but he doesn't mind in the least.  "I can have dinner ready for you when you get home." 

Dean finally looks up at him with a tentative smile.  "You don't have to do that, Cas." 

Castiel shrugs.  "I'll probably just make some Mac and Cheese." From scratch, but he'll leave that detail as a surprise. 

"Okay...  Uh, then I'll see you later." Dean starts backing away from the counter.  "You, uh, have a good-" He bumps into Benny and somehow manages to blush even harder when he catches a glimpse of his partner's smug grin.  He appears to mentally take himself in hand and shakes off his embarrassment.  "Okay bye, Cas." 

Castiel waves and watches them leave.  Through the lights on the window he can see that Benny is saying something to Dean whose shoulders are hunched defensively.  He hopes Benny doesn't tease Dean too much and end up discouraging him from more public displays like the kiss. 

"Dude," Gabriel says from the door leading to the kitchen.  "You two are disgustingly saccharine, and this is coming from a guy who spends all day baking desserts and then goes home and eats half a bag of candy with dinner." 

Castiel responds by lifting his middle finger in his brother's direction.  He receives a disgusted snort before Gabriel disappears into the kitchen again. 

The rest of the day passes quickly, and Castiel's mood stays high.  It isn't until nearly closing time that something happens to bring him crashing back down. 

The display cases are mostly empty and there haven't been any customers for long enough that Castiel has started taking the free time to clean up.  He's filling a box with treats for Sam and Jo when the bell over the door jingles to announce a customer.  Castiel straightens to greet them but the cheerful words die on his tongue when he sees Michael approaching the counter. 

"Hello Castiel," Michael purrs.  It's the same pleased tone he uses when Castiel shows up for a booty call. 

Michael has only been to the shop a few times in the year that it has been open, so the fact that he's showing up now makes Castiel's hackles rise.  The suspicion he has been trying not to think about all day is suddenly front and center in his mind.  "Michael, what are you doing here?" 

The other man’s dark eyes trace lightly over the empty trays behind the glass, and then flick up to the menu and pricing board.  He sniffs disdainfully before turning his attention back to Castiel and giving him a hundred watt smile.  “I came to see you.” 

Castiel’s skin crawls.  This is the attention he’s always wanted from Michael but it’s far too late.  _Years_ too late.  Instead of preening under the attention, he wants to tell Michael to leave.  But he needs to know if what he suspects is true, so instead of telling him they’re closing and he needs to go, Castiel confronts him.  “Did you do it?” 

To his credit, Michael doesn’t even flinch at the question.  He lifts a dark eyebrow, and looks completely innocent when he asks “Do what?” 

For a moment, Castiel’s suspicion wavers.  But then he remembers how the only things in his apartment that were really damaged were his prized recipe notebooks.  Michael knows about them.  Anyone who has known Castiel as long as Michael has would know about them.  He’s been filling them with recipes since long before culinary school. 

There’s also the fact that other than Gabriel, Balthazar, and Dean, Michael is the only person who knows about his notebooks that also knows where he lives.  And he knows without any doubt that it couldn’t have been Gabriel or Dean, and Balthazar absolutely wouldn’t because he understands Castiel’s passion more than anyone.  So that leaves only the man standing in front of him. 

He already knows Michael did it.  He just wants to hear him say it.  “Did you wreck my apartment?” 

Michael’s innocent facade flickers briefly, and for the briefest second his dark eyes blaze with rage.  It’s gone so quickly, that Castiel almost thinks he imagined it.  It’s replaced by what looks like sincere concern.  “Something happened to your apartment?  Are you okay?  You weren’t home, were you?” 

Tired of the game, Castiel snaps.  “You know damn well I wasn’t.” 

His sharp tone appears to irritate Michael.  _Good_ , he thinks viciously.  Castiel is far past done trying to please him. 

“Don’t take that tone with me, Castiel.” 

Castiel narrows his eyes dangerously.  “Get out of my store, Michael.” 

Now Michael looks truly surprised.  “You can’t make me leave.” 

Gabriel’s voice comes from behind Castiel.  “Uh, I’m afraid he can, dude.  He owns the place, and if he wants you gone, you gotta go.  And honestly?  Your face kinda clashes with all the pretty decorations, so I think it’d be best if you left sooner rather than later.” 

While he doesn’t need Gabriel’s backup, Castiel appreciates it nonetheless.  His brother can be the biggest shit most of the time, but when push comes to shove he’s always had Castiel’s back. 

Michael is glaring daggers at Gabriel, and even though Castiel doesn’t turn to look, he can hear his brother making a kissy face at the other man.  He forces himself not to smile because he wants Michael to leave and never come back, but he doesn’t want to make things worse by mocking him. 

He meets Michael’s dark eyed stare when his attention turns back to Castiel.  “Please leave, Michael.  You are not welcome here anymore.” 

“Fine,” Michael sneers.  “I came to apologize for my behavior at Balthazar’s the other night, but obviously I shouldn’t have bothered.” 

Castiel’s mind boggles at that statement.  He came to apologize for _that_?  He has a few bruises on his elbow from when Michael grabbed him, but that is nothing compared to the damage to his home.  His stomach roils with nausea.  “Leave.  Now.” 

Michael lets his mask slip and he glares at Castiel.  His voice drips with acid when he speaks.  “Fine.  Don’t come crawling back to me when your pretty boytoy dumps your needy ass.  We’re done.” He turns and stalks out of the shop and misses seeing Castiel rolling his eyes. 

“Holy shit, what an asshole.” Gabe has come forward to stand next to Castiel so he can watch Michael’s form recede through the front windows.  He casts an incredulous look at Castiel.  “You actually dated that guy?” 

“No,” Castiel answers wearily.  “I only let him fuck me.  Literally and figuratively.” 

“Gross, Cassie.” 

Castiel chuckles weakly.  He feels completely drained by the confrontation.  He has been relatively energetic all day despite only getting a few hours of sleep, and he had been buoyed by Dean’s visit at lunch time.  But now he’s feeling every hour of sleep he missed, and he feels like he could lay down right there on the floor and sleep till the store opens the next day. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Gabriel lays a hand on his shoulder, and frowns at him in concern. 

Castiel leans into the touch.  “I only had three or four hours of sleep last night, and it’s catching up to me.” 

“Jesus, Cassie.  Go home.” 

He would rather go to Dean’s.  He’s cheered a little by the fact that that’s where he’ll be going after work.  But there are still things to get done at the shop, and they’re still open for another half hour.  “I can’t yet.  We still have to-” 

“Castiel, go home.” Gabriel is using his Stern Older Brother voice, which is so rare that Castiel actually shuts up and listens to him.  “I don’t want you falling asleep behind the wheel on your way to Lover Boy’s place.  And I can handle closing the shop up.” 

He wants to argue, but Gabriel looks truly worried about him.  And he _is_ very tired.  He sighs and gives up the fight.  “Alright.  Can you handle the bank deposit, or should I take care of it?” 

“I got it, kiddo.” Gabriel rolls his eyes.  “God, you’d think I don’t know how to do the whole responsible adult thing.” 

Castiel grimaces.  “Sorry.” 

“Nah, don’t be,” Gabriel concedes with a self deprecating grin.  “Everyone knows you’re the big brother even if you are the baby of the family.” Neither of them acknowledges their older brother Zachariah.  They both think he’s a dick, and he’s pretty much written them both off as well. 

Castiel goes back to the half filled pastry box, and finishes loading it with treats.  He grabs the last three chocolate cake bacon donuts for Jo, and a cherry tart for Sam, and a Coke muffin for himself and tucks them in with scones, cookies, and the last carrot cupcake. 

Then he throws on his coat and leaves through the back door.  Dean’s Baby has a light crust of frost on her windows, and he has to let her warm up before he can drive home.  He closes his eyes and listens to the rumble of the engine and breaths in the smell of car oil and leather that always seems to linger on Dean’s skin.  A grin twists at his lips when he remembers Benny’s reaction to Dean letting him borrow the car, and just like that all the anger and hurt that Michael had left him with melts away. 

Michael means nothing in the grand scheme of things.  Not when Castiel has everything he’s ever needed to make him happy and Dean. 

When the car is warmed enough, and the windshield is defrosted, Castiel pulls out of the tiny parking lot.  He doesn’t head straight for Dean’s house though.  He stops at the grocery store and picks up what he needs for dinner.  He isn’t sure if Sam and Jo will be home, but he gets enough for them too. 

Before long, he’s pulling the Impala into Dean’s drive.  He gathers up the box of pastries and the grocery bag, and gets out of the car to find Sam standing on his porch with Bones on a leash.  He appears to have just returned from walking the dog. 

Sam is staring at him in slack jawed surprise, and Castiel isn’t exactly sure why until the younger man glances at the car then back to him.  “Dean let you borrow his car?” 

Castiel smiles and shrugs.  “It was either that or drive me to work at four in the morning.” 

Sam bounds down the steps, Bones at his heels, and takes the grocery bag from Castiel.  “Dude, Dean let you borrow his car.” 

So it is as big of a deal as Castiel thought.  He flashes Sam a wide grin as he walks up to Dean’s door and unlocks it.  “Your brother likes me.” 

Sam lets out a high pitched laugh.  “Yeah, you think?” 

“I’m making homemade Mac and Cheese for dinner,” Castiel says as he leads the way into the kitchen.  Bones is eying the box of pastries, so he makes sure to set it far back from the edge of the counter.  “I was planning on making a large batch if you and Jo would like some.” 

Sam sets down the grocery bag with a grimace.  “As long as you don’t add anything weird to it.” 

Castiel turns to give Sam a questioning look.  “Like what?” 

“I don’t know.  Ketchup.  Tuna.” Sam shrugs.  “Marshmallow fluff.” 

_Marshmallow fluff??_   Castiel shudders.  “Uh, no.  Just noodles and a few different kinds of cheese.” He isn’t sure he wants to know, but he has to ask.  “And why would I put marshmallow fluff in Mac and Cheese?” He can kind of understand ketchup and tuna, although neither sounds very appetizing. 

“Dad worked late a lot when we were kids, and Dean had to get creative,” Sam explains as he settles down in a chair at the table.  Bones sits between his knees and Sam idly rubs the dog’s ears.  “And it wasn’t just Mac and Cheese.  If Dad hadn’t been shopping in a while and he forgot to leave money for Dean to do it, we’d end up eating all kinds of weird shit.  Let me just tell you that sardines and pickles?  They do not go well together.” 

Castiel wrinkles his nose.  “Noted.” He gestures to the box on the counter.  “I brought home dessert too.  There are donuts in there for Jo.” 

As he speaks, the front door opens and Jo’s stomach appears, followed very closely by Jo herself.  Her eyes go wide when she hears Castiel.  “You brought me donuts?” 

“Your favorite,” he answers, gesturing to the box when she hurries into the kitchen. 

She pauses on her quest for sweets just long enough to give him a hug, and then hurries to open the box.  She takes a huge bite of one of the chocolate cake bacon donuts and hums happily, her cheeks bulging as she chews.  Castiel laughs when he sees the love-sick look Sam is sending Jo’s way. 

Jo swallows and sighs happily.  Then she frowns and looks around.  “Where’s Dean?” 

Castiel starts digging through the cupboards for a mixing bowl he can shred cheese into.  “He’s on shift until later.” 

Her frown deepens.  “But I heard the Impala.” 

“Dean let Cas borrow his car,” Sam says solemnly. 

Jo’s eyes go wide and she stares at Castiel like he’s some kind of otherworldly being.  “Holy shit.” 

“Holy shit,” Sam echoes. 

Castiel only smiles and starts grating cheddar cheese into the bowl.


	22. Chapter 22

As soon as the bakery’s door swings shut behind them, Dean casts Benny a cautious look.  Sure enough, his best friend is grinning like a fucking loon.  He knows the answer already, but he can’t seem to stop himself from asking “What are you smiling about?” 

“You loaned him your car, Brother.” Benny’s tone is just as smug as his smile and Dean wants to punch him. 

“So?” Even to his own ears he sounds overly defensive. 

“I’m trying to decide,” Benny drawls as he opens the door to their squad car, “if that means you’re whipped or not.” 

Oh, he’s definitely whipped.  Doesn’t mean he likes having it pointed out to him by smug bastards with Southern accents.  “Shut the fuck up, Benny.” 

Dean glares at his partner, but Benny’s grin doesn’t abate in the slightest.  Muttering threats under his breath, Dean slides into the passenger seat and sets the boxed desserts on the floor between his feet.  "Just get us back to the station, asshole." 

Benny's low chuckle makes him grind his teeth, but he's distracted from his irritation when his phone buzzes.  He pulls it out to find a message from Zeddmore. 

_Got the fingerprint results back.  No hits on the system other than yours._  

Dean grimaces at the screen.  Of course they found his prints at Castiel's apartment.  He was expecting that.  But he was hoping for a good lead on whoever broke in.  He taps out a quick thank you and puts his phone away with a sigh. 

"Bad news?" Benny asks as he takes a turn for the station. 

"No hits on fingerprints at Cas' place," Dean murmurs.  His stomach twists at the memory of the mess and even the scent of pie wafting up from the box doesn’t makes him feel better. 

"Did you think there would be?" 

Dean rubs a hand over his mouth as he thinks about the question, stubble scratching at his palm because he’d slept in a little later than he should have and skipped shaving to make up for the lost time.  He can't kick the feeling that whoever trashed Castiel's apartment is someone who knows him.  The place was torn apart but the vandal didn't ruin anything except the notebooks, and not just anyone would know how important they were to Cas.  But Castiel would have said something if he thought it was someone specific, wouldn't he? 

Dean has his suspicions, but he doesn't have any evidence to go on, really.  Just a gut feeling, which he typically trusts, but at the moment he’s not sure if it’s intuition or overprotective jealousy.  So for now he's going to keep his theory to himself. 

Back at the station, Dean drops his box of pie on his desk and removes his coat to hang over the back of his chair.  He plans on eating every crumb of pie, but an idea distracts him from the treat.  He tells Benny he has to talk to Charlie and heads down to the forensics lab.  He finds her bent over her laptop in her office and he can tell by her intent expression that she's probably got a video game going on there instead of actual work. 

"You get caught raiding at work again and Captain Singer will have your ass." 

Charlie jumps and slams the laptop closed.  "Dean!  Hey!  Hi!  I wasn't raiding!" 

He smirks at her as he plops down in the uncomfortable chair on the other side of her desk.  "Or farming mats." 

She narrows her eyes at him and he knows he hit the nail on the head.  "What do you want, Winchester?" 

He chuckles at her pout.  Definitely like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.  But he doesn't tease her any further because he came down here with a purpose.  "I need a favor." 

"Is it work related?" 

"Not really." 

Anyone else at the station would get suspicious, but not Charlie.  No, instead she sits forward eagerly.  "Oh yeah?" 

Charlie works in forensics now, but Dean and a select few know she broke a few laws when she was younger.  More than a few.  Luckily she got caught and someone convinced her to use her considerable talents for good causes, but anyone who knows her as well as Dean does knows she still craves the adventure of bending the rules now and then. 

And Dean needs that right now because what he's about to ask is far more than bending the rules.  "I need you to help me find someone but all I've got are a first name and the date and time of a phone call." 

"Are you planning on hurting someone with this information?" Charlie asks casually as she opens her laptop back up. 

"Not if he listens to reason," Dean answers just as nonchalantly. 

Charlie's eyes gleam with a combination of curiosity and excitement as she starts tapping away at her keyboard.  "Ooooh, drama.  I'm in.  Tell me what you've got." 

"His name is Michael." He rattles off Castiel's number, and what time he thinks Michael called him.  He also offers a description of the asshole in case Charlie needs it. 

She's already half lost in the search.  "Shouldn't be too hard to find him," she says absently.  She's frowning at the screen in concentration.  "So how are things with you and Castiel going?" 

"Pretty great, actually."

Charlie stops what she's doing and looks up at him in surprise.  "Really?" 

He frowns at her, trying to understand her reaction.  "Yeah.  Why?" 

She shrugs and goes back to tapping away at her computer.  Her expression is so deliberately bland that she looks like she's trying to hold in a fart. 

"Charlie, your poker face is awful." 

She huffs and tries harder, and Dean bursts into laughter.  "Come on, spit it out, Charles.  What’s on your mind?" 

She looks up at him through her bangs for a moment before she speaks.  "I guess I keep expecting bad news.  I've known you for a long time and I haven't seen you this...  easy?  in a relationship before.  I mean, I know you loved Lisa but..." She trails off, shoulders tensing as if she’s waiting for him to blow up. 

Dean lifts an eyebrow in an invitation for her to continue.  She looks like she’s ready to squirm out of her seat, and it might make him an asshole, but he’s really enjoying how nervous she is. 

Especially since she had to go and point out how shitty he is at relationships.  He loves her, but he is not letting her get away with that. 

Finally she straightens and gives him a determined look.  The kind of look that tells him she knows what he’s doing and he’s in for it now.  “No big gay freak out yet?” 

Dean can’t help his laugh.  “I should be freaking out, right?  Everyone freaks out.  I’m sure you freaked out.” 

“Naw, I always knew I dug the ladies.” 

He snorts.  “Lucky you.” 

“Yeah yeah, yay me.  But you're doing pretty damn good considering this is your first excursion out of The Closet." 

"I let him borrow my Baby," Dean admits.  His face warms when Charlie's mouth drops open in shock. 

"You... you... Really?  Damn, all that gross man sex you two are having must have addled your brain." 

_Definitely not gross_ , Dean thinks wryly, and he grins cheekily.  "Yeah he's pretty damn good in bed." 

"Ew, TMI." She deliberately turns her attention back to her computer screen.  "I don't want any details about your sex life, thank you.  Although I’m glad you figured out how it all works.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, because really?  It’s not like he and Castiel were a couple of blushing virgins who had to figure out where the tabs and slots are before inserting them into each other.  “Right, whatever.  So how did you figure out how to… y’know, do it?  With girls?” 

Charlie laughs.  “Probably the same way you did.  A lot of trial and error, and a few hot experienced chicks who taught me a some things.  And the internet helped too.” 

Dean wrinkles his nose.  “You can’t trust what you see in porn, Charlie.” 

“Ugh, no kidding.  All those porn lesbians with the long nails?  Totally scary.” They both laugh at that. 

Charlie’s laugh cuts off suddenly and she frowns at her screen.  "Uh oh." 

Dean sits up and leans toward the desk, the uncomfortable chair squeaking in protest.  Anxiety twists inside him because whatever she found doesn’t sound good.  "What?  What ‘uh oh’?" 

She turns the laptop so he can see the screen.  "Is this your guy?" 

A mug shot of Michael is staring back at Dean from the screen.  The dude doesn’t look nearly as clean and put together as he did at Balthazar’s club.  In fact, he looks like a damn thug.  Dean reaches out and grabs the laptop to pull it closer.  "What the fuck?  He's got a record?" 

"It's not a pretty one, either," Charlie says solemnly. 

Dean can see what she means.  The guy has a slew of domestic violence charges on his record and several existing restraining orders.  He's never been convicted for anything though.  He's either gotten out of the charges or they were dropped, usually due to lack of physical evidence.  The guy must have one hell of a lawyer.  He pulls up one of the files and gets a look at medical pictures of the victim and he hisses with sympathy.  The guy's face looks like he went a few rounds with Muhammad Ali. 

It's hard to see through all the bruising, but the guy has blue eyes.  And dark hair. 

Shit.  _Shit_.  How the hell did Castiel get involved with this guy?  And how has he managed to avoid getting hurt for so long if this guy regularly roughs up his lovers? 

"Who is this dickhead?" Charlie leans over the desk so she can see the screen and she grimaces when Dean pulls up another victim's photo. 

"Castiel's ex." He refuses to call him an ex- _boyfriend_.  Castiel hadn't seemed to think the term applied, but even if it did, Dean wouldn't call Michael that.  He doesn't want to think of him that way. 

Charlie sits back down and pinches her bottom lip as she stares wide-eyed at Dean.  She looks a little scared, which does nothing to sooth Dean's nerves.  "He hasn't hurt Castiel, has he?" 

"Not as far as I know," Dean admits.  He feels sick, and doesn't want to read any more so he spins the computer back toward her.  "And he never will if I have anything to do with it.  Find me his address." 

"What are you going to do with it?" Despite the worried look she casts him, Charlie doesn't hesitate to look for the information he needs.  She’s already clicking away, pulling up what he needs from the database. 

"I'm just going to pay him a visit.  Show off my blues and flash the badge a bit." Letting Michael know he's a cop should be enough of a warning, although a secret corner of his heart is hoping he'll find an excuse to do more than talk to him.  After seeing his record, Dean is itching to feel Michael's nose break under his knuckles. 

He snaps up the pink post-it note Charlie passes him and looks at the address.  He smiles, but it’s a predatory expression.  “Thanks Charles, I owe you one.” 

“Muffins for breakfast for a month,” she says as she leans back in her seat. 

“Deal.” Dean stands up and bends over the desk to catch her in an awkward hug.  He presses a kiss to the crown of her head before he lets her go.  “You still coming to the Christmas Eve party at my place?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it!” She’s already starting her game back up, one hand waving him out. 

Dean shoves the post-it in his breast pocket and heads back upstairs.  Benny is at his desk, munching on one of his blueberry donuts and reading something on his computer. 

“Hey, partner, wanna run an errand with me after work today?” Dean asks as he plops down in his own seat and pulls his box of pie closer.  He flips the lid open and takes a deep inhale. 

The scent of sugar and pastry goes straight to his head, and half of his blood goes south.  He rolls his eyes at himself because seriously?  Getting turned on by a pastry because his boyfriend usually smells like pie? 

He digs a fork out of his desk drawer, and tries to will away the dirty thoughts. 

Benny glances up curiously.  “What d’you need to do?” 

Dean shoves a bite of pie in his mouth and moans happily.  He closes his eyes for a moment and savors the sweet treat before he answers.  “Nothing illegal.” 

Benny snorts and turns his attention back to his work.  “Sounds good, brother.” 

“Knew you’d have my back.”

 

***

 

The rap of Dean’s knuckles echoes down the long hallway for the third time before Benny sighs and pats him between the shoulder blades.  “I don’t think he’s home, Dean.” 

Dean looks up and down the hall, hoping if the asshole doesn’t answer that he’ll at least wander out of an elevator or something.  The place is pretty fancy, with tables set at intervals holding lamps and fresh flowers, and the place has a door guard and everything.  No wonder this Michael douche bag can get out of all the charges against him.  Living in a place like this, he can probably afford a really good lawyer.  And possibly some pretty big wads of cash to pay off the men he’s beaten so they’ll drop the charges. 

He fucking hates this guy.  He’s never been a fan of rich dirt bags that think they rule the world, but he seriously hates abusers.  As a cop, Dean has seen far too many battered spouses and girlfriends and boyfriends in his lifetime, and if he wasn’t wearing the badge he’d hunt those monsters down and do something a little more drastic than arresting them. 

With a sigh he finally turns away from the door.  There’s really nothing he can do with his anger at the moment if Michael isn’t around to take the brunt of it.  “Yeah, you’re right, let’s get out of here.” 

The elevator ride back down to the lobby is silent, while Dean tries to ignore the curious looks Benny keeps shooting his way.  He hasn’t told anyone yet about his suspicion that Michael trashed Castiel’s apartment.  Spengler and Zeddmore didn’t find any of Michael’s prints, but that doesn’t mean shit.  Since the asshole has a record, he’s probably experienced enough to wear gloves for something as simple as breaking and entering and vandalism. 

“You gonna tell me what this was about?” Benny finally asks after they wave goodbye to the door guard and leave the building. 

Dean shoots his partner a quick glance before sliding into the passenger seat of the cruiser.  “I may have had Charlie look this guy up for me so I can threaten him.” 

Benny doesn’t even flinch.  He just starts the car and pulls away from the curb.  “This have something to do with Castiel?” 

“It might.” 

“Hm.  Well, we can come back tomorrow.” 

Dean grins as he watches the city pass by outside the passenger window.  “You’re the best, Benny.” 

His partner grunts.  “Just keeping your ass outta trouble, Dean.” 

And Dean is okay with that.  The last thing he needs is to get himself a suspension for beating the shit out of someone who deserves it even if the law protects him from it. 

They're about halfway to Dean's house when the radio crackles to life. 

"Any units in the area of 800 and Vermont Street, please respond.  We have a Code 459 in progress." 

Dean's heart stutters when he recognizes the address.  Without thought for the fact that he and Benny are both off shift, he grabs the radio and responds.  "This is Officers Winchester and LaFitte.  We're in the area and on our way." 

Benny is already turning the cruiser in the direction of Castiel's shop because he recognized the address as well.  "You gonna be able to keep your cool?" 

Dean nods sharply.  "I'll do what I have to." 

That's all the answer Benny seems to need because he only nods and presses his foot down on the accelerator.  He reaches out and flips on the lights and sirens and what little traffic there is melts away before them. 

When they pull up in front of Heavenly Delights and Dean gets his first glimpse of the damage he sucks in a breath.  The front windows are both smashed, the Christmas lights he and Cas hung up are hanging dark and tangled from the edges, and from where he is he can see that at least one of the display cases no longer has any glass in it. 

Dean scrambles to get out of the car and hurries up to the front of the building.  His stomach clenches when he gets a better look at the damage.  There isn't a single piece of intact glass in the entire place. 

The door to the vacuum shop across the street opens and an older man comes shuffling out, calling out to them that he's the one who called the cops.  Benny nods at Dean in a silent communication that he'll talk to the witness while Dean goes inside the shop to look around. 

He steps gingerly through the front door, not bothering to open it because the glass is broken out of it as well.  Shards crunch under his feet as he makes his way behind the counter and into the kitchen.  The place is a mess.  Pans have been pulled out of their racks and scattered across the floor.  The three industrial size mixing machines have been knocked over against the back wall.  The walk in refrigerator door is open and from where he's standing he can see that things have been dumped out. 

It doesn't look as bad as he expected though, and he suspects it's because the guy who called in the report scared the vandal off.  He was interrupted before he could really get started on the kitchen. 

Dean shuts the refrigerator door so what's left in there that hasn't been dumped out won't spoil, even though it's cold enough outside that things like butter and cream would probably be okay overnight. 

Rage boils through him, and it's all he can do to keep from breaking his knuckles by pounding them into the nearest wall.  Whoever did this has to be the same person that vandalized Castiel's apartment.  A thief might have broken a single window to get into the building and then broken into the locked office, but it would be far more likely that they would have picked the back door's lock and avoided any other damage. 

Smashing glass is a loud business.  The only reason to do it is to destroy.  And the fucker who did this was definitely trying to destroy Castiel's livelihood. 

Dean makes his way back outside and strides across the street to where Benny is interviewing the witness.  He's only paying half attention to the man's rantings as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.  A few taps is all it takes to pull up Castiel's number. 

Castiel picks up after two rings.  "Hey...  are you on your way home?" 

He sounds sleepy, and his voice has a little extra gravel in it like it does when he first wakes up, making Dean's heart ache at the sound.  It's almost an hour after Dean said he would be home, and Castiel is probably exhausted since he got very little sleep the night before.  Dean can imagine Castiel curled up in his bed, hair already mussed, and blue eyes heavy lidded and sleepy, and all he wants is to be there with Cas.  He wants to strip out of his uniform and crawl under the blankets with him and hold him against his chest and listen to his breathing even out as he falls asleep. 

He rubs a hand over his face, and pinches the bridge of his nose.  God, he really does not want to deliver the bad news.  "Cas, I need you to come down to the bakery." 

Dean can hear the rustle of cloth which tells him Castiel probably is already in bed.  "Dean, what's wrong?" 

"Benny, and I got a call." Dean pauses to clear his throat, and he squeezes harder at the skin between his eyes.  "I'm sorry, Cas.  The place is completely busted up." 

There is a pregnant pause, and when Castiel speaks again his voice is flat.  "What do you mean?" 

 "Just...  please come down here.  Use my car." 

"Alright.  I'm on my way." 

Dean sighs and drops his hand away from his eyes.  He turns and looks back at the bakery's empty windows.  He forces himself to imagine them with glass again, painted with brightly colored cupcakes, because seeing them empty and dark like this makes his blood boil and he needs to keep a level head.  "Okay, Cas.  See you in a few." 

Castiel hangs up without saying goodbye and Dean huffs out a frustrated breath before shoving the phone in his pocket and stepping closer to Benny and the witness.  The guy is busy ranting about some government conspiracy involving the local police force ignoring "the little guys" because they're more interested in protecting rich assholes who can pad their pockets with a little extra green. 

Dean rolls his eyes, and turns to Benny who seems to be tuning the man out.  "What've we got?" 

Benny gestures at the man who is glaring suspiciously at Dean.  "Mr.  Devereaux heard the commotion and-" 

"And I chased after that bastard for a block! He's damn lucky I was still trying to load my shotgun, or he'd have been leaving a trail of blood behind.  God damn vandals, busting up the neighborhood  like-" 

Dean didn't have patience for the guy's ranting so he cuts in.  "Did you get a look at his face?" 

Devereaux snorts.  "My eyesight is shit.  All I could see was that he was a white guy with dark hair." 

A chill runs down Dean's spine.  The description is vague and could seriously be anyone, but he knows it's Michael.  "Could you point him out in a lineup?" 

"Hell no," Devereaux snorts.  "But I can do you one better.  I've got the bastard on tape." 

Dean reels back a little in surprise.  "You do?" 

"Yeah, like I was telling your partner here, I don't trust you damn cops.  Gotta take care of things myself, so I have surveillance cameras set up." He turns to point to the front window of his vacuum shop.  "Got one in the window there, pointed out toward the street." 

"Well what are we waiting for?" Dean demands.  "Let's go look at it!" 

Devereaux squawks like an indignant chicken for a full minute before Dean grabs the front of his robe and jerks him close enough to smell the man's unwashed skin and garlicky breath.  "Look, pal.  The guy that owns that bakery?  He's family.  And I am going to find the asshole that did this.  So you are going to _show me_ those videos.  Capiche?" 

The guy finally relents and leads Dean and Benny into his shop.  The place is dark, lit only by a flickering fluorescent light near the back.  It’s crowded with metal shelves full of vacuum parts, and in the half-light they look like deactivated robot parts.  Everything is covered in dust, and Dean's nose itches with the urge to sneeze.  He holds it in, afraid any sudden movements will kick even more dust into the stale air. 

Devereaux waddles behind a counter and bends down under it to pull out a heavy duty looking laptop.  He mutters to himself as he opens it up and clicks through files.  After a few minutes he grunts and turns the laptop on the counter so they can see it.  "This should be it." 

Dean and Benny lean close to watch the video as Devereaux unpauses it.  The footage is of a man in a long, dark coat smashing through the front window with a bat.  Dean wants to growl in frustration because they can only see his back.  His hands clench into fists as he watches the man step through the broken door.  What happens next is just vague shadows, but Dean knows the guy is in there busting up the display cases. 

After a few minutes of video, the guy seems to freeze and look up.  Then he scrambles out of the broken door and goes running down the street.  Dean reaches out to hit pause right when Devereaux's back comes into the shot as he runs out of his store.  Dean rewinds it a little, then tweaks it forward a little, and... 

"Fucking _fucker_!" Dean barks.  There on the screen is a clear shot of Michael's face.  The camera's resolution is clear, and Dean recognizes him easily.  "I am going to beat that son of a bitch into the ground!" 

"You know him?" Benny asks. 

"Yeah, I fucking know him," Dean snaps as he straightens.  He jabs a finger at the computer and addresses his next words to Devereaux.  "We're going to need a copy of that." 

"Not without a goddamn warrant!" 

Dean's patience snaps.  "Oh for fuck's sake, _really_?" 

He's about to start in on the guy about how that just makes him look suspicious when the familiar growl of his Impala's engine rumbles through the vacuum shop's front window.  Dean's head snaps around, and he can just barely see Castiel getting out of the car.  "Benny, talk to this guy for me.  Cas is here." 

He doesn't wait for an answer before he hurries outside.  By the time he gets across the street, Castiel has already made his way inside.  He's standing just inside the door, staring around at all the damage. 

Dean ducks through the broken door and comes up next to him.  "Cas?" 

Castiel doesn't look at him.  In the dark, Dean can just make out his expression, or lack thereof.  His face is blank as he looks around at the destruction, like he’s not sure how to take in what he’s seeing. 

Dean tries again, this time reaching out to touch him.  "Cas?  You okay?" 

"No, Dean," Castiel murmurs so quietly that Dean finds himself leaning forward to make sure he didn't imagine it.  "I am not okay." 

"Hey," Dean says softly as he steps closer to Castiel and tries to pull him closer.  "I get it.  But it can be fixed." 

Castiel allows himself to be pulled into Dean's arms, but he doesn't return the embrace.  "I know.  I have insurance." 

Dean runs a hand down between Castiel's shoulder blades in a soothing gesture.  Even through the thick cloth of his coat, Dean can feel how tense he is.  He presses a kiss to Castiel's temple and holds him a little tighter.  He's so fucking angry, and all he wants to do is tear out of there and track Michael down, but he's got to be here for Castiel too.  "Don't worry, Cas.  We'll find Michael and arrest his ass.  He won't get away with this." 

Castiel stiffens even further, but he doesn't pull away.  "Michael?" 

Shit, he probably shouldn't have said anything yet.  Castiel has enough on his plate right now without also finding out he was sleeping with a guy who regularly abuses his partners and apparently vandalizes places for shits and giggles.  But now that he's let it slip, he might as well explain.  With a sigh, he elaborates.  "The guy across the street had a surveillance camera set up, and it's Michael on the video." 

When Castiel pulls away, Dean lets him go reluctantly.  In the dim light coming in from the street lamps he can see that Castiel's expression is no longer blank.  His eyes are dark with rage, and a muscle is jumping in his cheek.  Dean can actually hear him grind his teeth. 

"Michael did this." Castiel grits out in a dangerous tone. 

"I think he may have been the one to trash your apartment too," Dean says softly.  He watches Castiel carefully.  He's never seen the baker angry before, and he has to admit he's a little bit scary.  Dean is glad that wrath isn't directed at him. 

It's really fucking hot, too, but Dean immediately ignores his body's reaction.  Bad timing for a woody, and all that. 

Benny's shout from across the street gets Dean's attention.  He waves to let Benny know he'll be right over before turning back to Castiel.  "I'll be right back.  We're getting that video for evidence and then we just need to get a statement and some pictures of the place." 

Castiel nods silently. 

Dean reluctantly leaves him and jogs back across the street to meet Benny who holds up a USB stick in triumph.  "Good," Dean says as he comes to a halt next to his partner.  "Let's call in forensics to get some photos of the place and then-" 

The growl of Baby's engine starting up interrupts him.  Dean jerks around just in time to see the car peel out.  "Shit!" 

"Where do you think he's going in such a hurry?" Benny's slow drawl is full of concern. 

Dean is already digging his phone out of his pocket and dialing Castiel's phone.  "I don't know," he snaps as he presses the phone up to his ear.  When Castiel doesn’t answer and he hisses a curse and just barely resists the urge to throw his phone.  He spins around and faces Benny.  “I might have an idea where he’s going.” 

Benny quirks an eyebrow.  “Well what are we waiting for?” 

“You’re fuckin’ right,” Dean growls as he holds out his hand.  “Give me the keys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's finally hitting the fan!
> 
> So sorry for taking a while to post this. I discovered Shameless and I have watched three seasons in four days. I blame Artsyunderstudy. Totally her fault. She's my hero and I love her.
> 
> And once again HUGE THANKS to Jupiterjames because I really don't think I'd get anywhere on this story without her being my cheerleader when I get whiny :D


	23. Chapter 23

He doesn't have a plan.  All he knows is that he needs to look Michael in the eye and ask him why.  Why, after all these years he decided he wanted Castiel exclusively for himself?  Why couldn't they have had more when Castiel actually wanted it?  And why destroy Castiel's livelihood when he finally can't stand being treated as a convenient hole anymore and found someone new who actually cares about him? 

And then he's probably going to start throwing punches, because he has a feeling that nothing Michael says will be as satisfying as beating the shit out of the narcissistic asshole. 

The doorman recognizes him and waves at him, although he does do a double take when he sees Castiel's expression.  But he doesn't stop him, which is a good thing because Castiel isn't sure that he'll be able to contain his rage to just Michael at this point.  In fact, if he were thinking clearly, he would probably be a little scared of himself.  But he's not thinking clearly; he's just feeling, and there is a fire inside him burning away his rational thoughts and leaving nothing behind but hate. 

The elevator ride up to Michael's apartment is slow, and leaves Castiel feeling jittery with unreleased aggression.  He can't even wait for the doors to open all the way before he's squeezing between them and darting toward Michael's door. 

He slams against the door with both fists, twice.  "Michael! Open the door!" 

In his rage it never occurs to him that Michael isn't home, but it turns out to not be an issue because after a moment he can hear the lock clicking open.  As soon as the doorknob starts to turn, Castiel shoves inside.  He takes dark satisfaction from the sight of Michael stumbling back from the door. 

Michael recovers quickly though, and smirks at Castiel.  "Well, well.  Look who came crawling back after all.  Although it will be sexier if you get down on your knees when you beg me to forgive you." 

Castiel bristles.  He will never get on his knees for Michael ever again.  "Forgive _me_?" He hisses.  "You think I'm here to ask you to forgive _me_?  What the _ever loving fuck_ , Michael?" 

The other man reaches out to grab Castiel, and tightens his grip to prevent him from escaping when he jerks away.  "Come on, Cassie.  We've always been good together.  Why would you want to give this up?" 

When Michael leans down to kiss him, Castiel tries to twist away.  Michael grabs his jaw and forces him to hold still as he slides his tongue past Castiel's lips. 

If he thought he was angry before, Castiel was wrong.  Poisonous rage boils up inside him.  How dare he?  How fucking _dare_ _he_? 

When Castiel's teeth clamp down, Michael screams and jerks back.  He let's go of Castiel's face and reaches up to touch his mouth which is dripping with blood.  Castiel can taste the copper tang of it on his tongue and it makes him sick, but that only adds to his rage.  "Don't ever touch me again," Castiel warns in a low growl.  He drags the back of his wrist over his mouth, wiping away Michael’s kiss.  "You have no right anymore." 

Michael's expression, which has been mildly pleasant since he opened the door morphs into something ugly and foreign.  Castiel has always thought he was one of the most handsome men he's ever known, but all traces of what he found attractive in Michael have disappeared behind a hateful mask.  The fingers he still has wrapped around Castiel's arm tighten and it's the only warning he gives before his fist connects with Castiel's cheek. 

The punch is hard enough that Castiel would have stumbled back if Michael hadn't been holding him.  But he's left dazed and doesn't recover fast enough to block a second hit which puts him down on his knees. 

"I have every right," Michael sneers down at him.  "You're mine, Castiel." 

Castiel shakes his head, but the ringing in his ears doesn't lessen, nor does the throbbing pain in the left side of his face.  He surprises himself by laughing.  It is a bitter sound, and he almost doesn't recognize that it came from him.  "Yours?" He mumbles through throbbing lips.  "You never wanted me until I was gone." 

"That's not true, Castiel." Michael's voice is raw as if he's been shouting and he's breathing hard.  He looks half-mad, and nothing like the person Castiel has spent the last ten years pining after.  "I've always loved you." 

He thinks of the sleepy "I love you" Dean murmured that morning, and the way he'd wrapped himself around Castiel and held him close.  He thinks of the way Dean has always listened to him ramble about new recipe ideas, even before they were dating.  And how Dean makes sure he's fed on busy days.  How he looks at Castiel as if he hung the moon and stars when he thinks no one is paying attention.  He thinks of all the ways Dean has shown him that he wants to be in his life. 

It's only been a few months with Dean, but Castiel has already received more love from him than Michael has shown him in the last decade. 

"No you didn't," Castiel grits out.  He leverages himself back to his feet, using Michael’s grip on his arm to keep his balance.  “You just loved how convenient I’ve always been for you.”

The realization is more painful than the throbbing in his cheek.  He has given up years of his life pining over Michael, always hoping that if he gives him what he wants, what he needs, he’ll come around and realize that Castiel has wormed his way into his heart.  It’s a stupid fairytale fantasy, and he’s pissed at himself for holding on to it so tightly, for so long.

"Fuck you, Cassie, I _have_ always lo-" 

He's cut off by Castiel's fist smashing against his mouth.  It's a left handed punch which makes it awkward, but it's still hard enough that Michael's grip on his arm comes loose and Castiel hits him again with his right fist.  Castiel throws a third punch and is filled with a dark satisfaction when a red splash of blood explodes from Michael's mouth. 

Michael recovers and lunges at Castiel, but there is no finesse in his movements and he's easily avoided.  Castiel steps out of his way at the same time he swings a fist into Michael's stomach, causing him to collapse onto the floor as he tries to regain his breath. 

Seeing Michael on the floor tames some of Castiel's rage, at least enough to keep him from pulling a foot back and kicking him in the ribs.  The thought is tempting, and he's still burning to hurt Michael as badly as he's been hurt, but instead he takes a step back.  He's angry, but he's lucid enough to know that what he's done so far can be claimed as self defense.  If he keeps going, he's not sure he'll be able to stop. 

The clump of running footsteps bring's Castiel's attention around to the door just in time to see Dean and Benny arrive.  When he meets Dean's green eyes and sees the worry there melt away into relief, Castiel smiles at him.  "Hello, Dean." 

Dean's lips start to turn up in a smile, but then his eyes widen.  "Cas!" 

Pain explodes in the back of Castiel's neck and he cries out.  His knees give out and the world is suddenly spinning in slow motion.  He hears shouting, and distantly he's aware of more sharp pain as he hits the floor.  The pain is everywhere.  His head, his chest, his...  Dean looks so scared.  Why is he...? 

 

***

 

Dean doesn't like hospitals.  He never visits them for anything good.  Someone is always sick or hurt or dying.  The constant beeping of machines and the emotionless announcements over the intercom combined with the smell of illness hiding under antiseptic usually gives him a headache, and this time is no exception. 

But he will put up with it for as long as it takes.  He’s not leaving Castiel alone in this hell hole. 

He’s paced restlessly from one wall of the waiting room to another so many times he’s starting to drive himself crazy, and he’d feel sorry for the other people waiting if he could think about anything except Castiel.  His mind plays the scene over and over again, seeing everything in slow motion on the backdrop of his mind.  Castiel smiling at him, oblivious of Michael grabbing his baseball bat - probably the same one he used to smash up the bakery - and rising up behind him.  Michael’s snarl as he swings the bat at the back of Castiel’s head.  The slow slump of Castiel’s body to the floor. 

Dean’s gun came out before he finished falling.  It only took one shot to stop Michael from bringing that bat down on Castiel’s head again. 

He’d only winged the fucker, and as he waits for news from the doctor about Castiel’s condition, he plays the scene out in different ways in his mind.  Most of them end with a bullet between Michael’s eyes.  All of them end with Castiel being whole and uninjured. 

The doors to the waiting room swing open and Dean spins around hoping to see Castiel’s doctor, but instead finds Gabriel rushing to close the space between them.  Gabriel’s eyes are wide and wild, his skin pale with fear.  He doesn’t stop until he’s right up in Dean’s personal space and he grab’s Dean’s arms in a surprisingly tight grip. 

“What the hell is going on with my little brother?” Gabriel demands. 

Dean knows he should probably sugar coat things.  He’s a cop, and it’s something he has a lot of practice at.  But he’s just as scared as Gabriel looks.  Head injuries are not a joke.  “I haven’t heard anything from the doctor’s yet.” When he called Gabriel he’d explained Castiel’s injury and that he was unconscious when the paramedics brought him into the E.R. 

Gabriel let’s him go and digs both hands into his hair, making it look even more wild.  “So he’s still out?” 

“Last time I heard anything, yeah.” Dean is surprised at how calm his voice sounds when he speaks.  He’s _not_ calm.  Far from it.  He wants to scream and rail until a doctor comes out and gives him an update.  He wants to hunt down whatever room they’ve got Michael in and beat him until he’s nothing but a bloody smear in a hospital gown.  But training and experience are keeping him in check. 

“Shit,” Gabriel moans.  He drops his hands and turns his golden eyed focus on Dean.  “Tell me what happened.” 

Dean rubs a hand over his face.  God damn, he is tired.  “Castiel’s ex-” 

“Ex?  What ex?” Gabriel interrupts. 

“Michael.” 

Gabriel lets out a derisive snort.  “He’s not Cassie’s ex.  They were shag-buddies, not a couple.” 

Satisfaction wells up inside Dean, but he ignores it and continues his story.  “Michael busted up the bakery-” 

“That fucking asshole!” 

“-and when Cas found out, he went over to Michael’s place to confront him.  They got in a fight- ” 

“I hope Cassie broke his fucking face.” 

Dean got a look at the damage to Michael’s face before he was taken away in the ambulance.  It’s hard to tell through the swelling, but he thinks Castiel might have broken his nose.  He’s going to be proud of Castiel for that as soon as he’s not hovering around the edge of a meltdown.  Fuck, he needs a goddamn doctor to give him some news soon.  “Yeah, he did.  Then Michael hit him in the head with a bat.” 

“Jesus H.  Christ,” Gabriel breathes out.  He closes his eyes, and his lips move silently.  Dean doesn’t know if he’s praying for Castiel, or cursing Michael.  Either way, Dean is behind him one hundred percent.  When Gabriel opens his eyes again, he looks as exhausted as Dean feels.  “I kept telling him that fuckwad was bad news.  God dammit.” 

Dean watches Gabriel slump down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs lining the room.  “I shot Michael,” he says quietly.  It feels good to say. 

Gabriel perks up.  “Did you kill him?” 

“No,” Dean admits with a disgusted snort.  “I should’ve.” 

“Fuck yeah you should’ve,” Gabriel sighs.  “You would have saved me the trouble.” 

The anger that has been hovering at a low simmer inside Dean’s chest boils up.  “I’m a fucking cop, you asshole.” 

“Yeah, and a fucking pansy ass cop too,” Gabriel snaps. 

Dean opens his mouth, but the scathing reply he had planned dies on his tongue when the door opens again and a doctor comes through.  He straightens and takes a few steps in her direction before it occurs to him that she may be here to talk to someone else in the waiting room.  He stops in his tracks, stares at her hopefully, squeezing his hands into fists until his nails bite into his palms.  Gabriel pops up from his chair, and plants himself at Dean’s side. 

“Officer Winchester?” 

If he weren’t about to lose his mind with worry, Dean would roll his eyes at her.  He’s brought her so many patients during his career that he almost feels like they’ve been pseudo dating.  “How is he, Tessa?” 

Tessa smiles brightly, and Dean’s knees nearly collapse with relief.  “He woke up while we were taking x-rays.  Luckily the guy who hit him didn’t manage more than a glancing blow, so nothing’s broken and he seems pretty clear headed.  He has a concussion and what is no doubt a killer headache, but that’s to be expected.  Otherwise he’s fine, and we’ll be releasing him soon.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” Gabriel breathes.  “I want to see him.” 

Tessa looks like she’s about to object, and Dean cuts in before she accidentally starts a scene.  “This is Castiel’s brother Gabriel.” 

She brightens again and reaches a hand out to touch Gabriel’s shoulder to gently guide him.  “Come this way then.  I’ve got some instructions for how to care for him when you take him home and-” 

“I’ll be taking him home with me.” Dean isn’t about to let Castiel out of his sight for a while. 

Gabriel turns to glare at Dean over his shoulder, but after a moment his expression relaxes into an accepting half-smile.  “Come on, Dean-o.  Let’s go make sure my baby brother still has all his marbles.” 

When Dean sees Castiel sitting up on the narrow hospital bed, he has to stop and take a moment to breathe.  He feels his eyes begin to sting and he rubs a hand over his face in an attempt to shove the impending tears back.  Castiel’s face is bruised and swollen, and his normally golden skin is sickly pale, and it’s obvious by the tightened skin around his mouth and eyes that he’s in a lot of pain. 

But he’s going to be okay.  The tension that has been riding Dean’s shoulders since he saw that bat swing finally drains away. 

Gabriel doesn’t hesitate to rush forward and sweep Castiel into a tight hug.  “Dammit, little brother, I told you that dickbag was bad news.” 

“Yes, you did.” Castiel’s voice is rough, and he sounds as tired as he looks.  He returns Gabriel’s hug, and his eyes find Dean’s across the room.  A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.  “Hello, Dean.” 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean answers gruffly.  “How are you feeling?” 

Castiel doesn’t answer right away.  His arms tighten around his brother and he says something quietly in his ear that Dean doesn’t catch.  Gabriel straightens away from the side of the bed and sighs.  “Alright, I’m going to go see if there’s any paperwork that needs signing so we can get you out of here.” He throws a smirk at Dean.  “I’m sure it will take me a while.” 

Dean steps aside to let Gabriel leave the room.  He isn’t able to look away from Castiel.  His dark hair is sticking up in five different directions, and his eyes are as blue as ever.  And despite the swelling and bruising, Dean thinks he’s gorgeous. 

“Are you going to stand over there until Gabriel comes back?” Castiel asks after a moment.  He swings his legs over the side of the bed and slides till his bare feet hit the floor. 

The question finally unglues Dean’s feet from the linoleum.  He doesn’t remember crossing the room because he’s more concerned with feeling Castiel warm and alive and whole and in his arms.  He buries his face against Castiel’s neck and breathes him in.  He still smells like pastries despite everything.  “I’m sorry, Cas.  I’m so sorry.” 

Castiel’s arms tighten around him.  “Why are you sorry, Dean?” 

“Protect and serve, remember?” He straightens and cups Castiel’s jaw in his palm, carefully turning his face and taking a closer look at the discoloration along his cheek.  His jaw clenches angrily and all he wants is to go find the room Michael is being treated in and put a few more bullet holes in him.  “And I’m doing a shit job of it,” he mutters. 

Castiel snorts and turns his face until he can place a kiss against Dean’s palm.  “You couldn’t have known what would happen.” 

But he did know, he just found out too late.  “Cas…” he takes a step back, needing to put some space between them so that he can keep his head level for the conversation they’re about to have.  “Did you know Michael has a record of domestic violence against his partners?” 

Castiel’s eyes narrow.  “What are you talking about?  How do you know that?” 

Dean sighs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck.  “So… I might have used some work resources to find out about him.  And I found out he’s got a record.  He’s never been convicted, but he’s been arrested plenty of times.  He’s probably got a douche bag lawyer that’s getting fat paychecks to keep him out of trouble.” 

When Castiel doesn’t say anything, but just continues to stare at him blankly, Dean reaches out to touch him again, running his palm over the curve of his shoulder.  “He won’t be getting out of it this time though.  I can promise you that.” 

Castiel’s lips twist in a wry smile.  “Because my boyfriend is a cop?” 

“And my brother’s a lawyer,” Dean points out.  “Who works for the D.A., who also happens to be a family friend.” 

The tiny smile widens.  “That is good news.” 

Dean smiles back tentatively.  “We got him, Cas.  He won’t hurt you or anyone else again.” 

“I know, Dean.” Castiel closes the space between them and rests his forehead on Dean’s chest.  “Are you taking me to your house tonight?” 

“Unless you want to go to your place instead?” Dean holds his breath.  He’ll take Castiel to the apartment if that’s what he wants, but even with Michael going to jail as soon as he’s released from the hospital, he doesn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone.  He’ll need to get Gabriel to stay with him if that’s where he prefers to go. 

“No, I want to stay with you.” 

The breath he’s holding escapes him in a relieved sigh.  “Great.  Let’s get you the hell out of here.” 

Getting Castiel checked out of the hospital doesn’t take very long since Gabriel was true to his word and got the paperwork started.  Dean doesn’t want to leave Castiel alone, but he feels like leaving him with his brother is safe, so he let’s them finish up the paperwork while he goes to find Benny. 

“You know you’re off duty, right?” He says as he approaches the older man from behind. 

Benny turns and gives him a wide smile.  “Could say the same for you, brother.  How’s Castiel?” 

“He’s good.  Apparently Michael’s shit with a bat if he’s not swinging it at windows.”  And thank God for that.  “I’m taking him home in a few minutes.” 

“I’ll be heading out of here myself, as soon as someone not on overtime comes to relieve me of guard duty.” Benny cocks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the room Michael is being kept in. 

Dean lingers long enough to make sure someone is on their way, and that someone will be going to park outside the bakery to keep people out until the window repairs can get started.  He meets Castiel and Gabriel just as they’re finishing up the last few signatures. 

He’d driven the Impala to the hospital, following behind the ambulance so he’s able to drive them home.  It feels good to have Castiel in the passenger seat again.  They’re silent, although Dean reaches out occasionally to touch Castiel, making sure he’s awake.  Castiel’s lips curve each time even though his eyes remain closed.  Or he’ll lean into a touch on his shoulder, or chase Dean’s fingers with his own to clasp them together. 

“You can’t sleep for a while tonight,” Dean says as he leads Castiel up the stairs to the door of his house.  It’s difficult to tell him that since he looks so friggin’ exhausted.  But the doctor’s instructions had been clear.  Concussion means he’s got to stay awake for a few more hours. 

Especially since he’d been unconscious for a while earlier. 

“Will you stay up with me?” 

He sounds beyond exhausted.  He’s gotta be running on fumes at this point since he got so little sleep the night before.  “Yeah, of course I will,” Dean says quietly as he shuts the door behind him.  “We could watch a movie, or catch up on Dr.  Sexy or something.  Are you hungry?” 

Castiel shakes his head absently as he makes his way to the couch.  He lowers himself to it carefully, wincing slightly, and curls into the arm.  When he speaks, it’s barely audible.  “Come sit with me.” 

As soon as Dean settles on the couch, Castiel is in his arms.  He’s trembling and breathing hard, and Dean’s pretty sure the dampness he feels against his neck is Castiel’s tears.  He tightens his arms around Castiel and pulls him as close as he can, running his hands over his back and shoulders.  He hates that he’s had to do this for him more than once. 

“That bakery is everything to me,” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s neck. 

“I know,” Dean answers softly.  He presses a kiss against dark hair, relishing the silky feel against his lips.  “It’s just glass.  The insurance will cover everything, and if not, we’ll make sure Michael pays for it.” 

“I’m not sure I can afford to have it shut that long.” Castiel takes a shuddering breath.  “And what about my employees?  They’re going to lose pay for however long it takes and- fuck.” 

Dean gently runs his fingers over Castiel’s ears and the edges of his hair, careful to avoid anywhere that might be swollen and sore.  “Y’know, I’ve got some connections.  I can arrange to let you shoot Michael if you want.” 

Castiel snorts an ugly laugh and sits up.  He’d looked awful before, but with his eyes red and puffy and tears tracking down his cheeks, he looks like complete shit. 

He’s still gorgeous though, and Dean’s heart thumps a little harder inside his chest.  Damn, he really loves this guy. 

“I am a little hungry,” Castiel says.  “How about some leftover Mac and Cheese?” 

Dean’s stomach growls loudly and they both look down at it.  He’s still wearing his uniform, and the radio receiver is digging uncomfortably into his side.  “Food sounds like a good idea,” he says with a smile when he looks up to see Castiel’s blue eyes glittering with humor instead of tears.  “Let me go get changed, and then I’ll warm some up-” 

“You go get changed,” Castiel says as he pushes himself to his feet next to the couch.  He holds out a hand to help Dean up.  “I can handle warming up dinner.” 

Dean’s careful to grasp Castiel’s wrist so he doesn’t squeeze his bruised knuckles and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.  There isn’t much distance between them, but it’s more than Dean wants so he leans into Castiel’s personal space and places a barely there kiss on his lips.  Then he presses their foreheads together, so all he can see is the blue of Castiel’s eyes. 

_Never again_ , he promises himself.  He’ll protect Castiel from whatever shit comes their way.  He will not let anyone hurt him ever again. 

He let’s Castiel go after another chaste kiss and goes upstairs to change and to lock his gun away.  When he’s changed into green and white pajama bottoms and a faded Whitesnake t-shirt, he comes back down and finds Castiel in the kitchen, dishing out the gooiest looking Mac and Cheese Dean has ever seen.  His mouth starts watering and his stomach grumbles again, loud enough that Castiel hears it and tosses an amused grin over his shoulder. 

They settle down next to each other at the table.  Dean’s first bite is orgasmic.  “Jesus, Cas,” he mutters around a second mouthful of cheese and noodles.  “What the hell did you put in here?  Is it legal?” 

Castiel’s laugh makes Dean’s stomach do a little flip flop thing.  “I’m not going to incriminate myself, Dean.” 

Dean grins.  “You know that just makes you sound guilty, right?” 

“Eat your dinner, you dick.” 

Dean laughs and leans over to kiss Castiel.  It’s still chaste, but he puts a little more pressure into it and when he leans back he licks his lips as if there’s some cheesy flavor left behind from Castiel’s mouth.  “But I’m _your_ dick.” 

“Dean,” Castiel leans in and gives him a serious look.  There’s just the tiniest hint of a twinkle in his eyes.  “Eat your damn dinner.” 

Doing as he’s told, Dean shoves a huge spoonful of cheesy goodness in his mouth and chews it with an open mouthed grin. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

Not thinking about it, Dean responds “Yeah, but you love me.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

Dean goes still mid-chew.  He stares at his boyfriend in shock, unaware that his mouth has dropped open until Castiel reaches over and nudges his chin shut.  He quickly swallows, ignoring the ache in his throat caused by a too large mass of food going down all at once.  “You love me?” he manages to choke out around it. 

Castiel is beaming at him.  His cheek is turning an ugly purple, and one of his eyes is partially swollen, but for once Dean barely notices it.  “Yes, Dean.  I love you.” 

It’s not exactly how Dean would have imagined the moment.  He’s seen enough chick flicks to know that love confessions should be something special.  Something you do on a romantic date, or while making slow love on a lazy afternoon.  It’s not something you do over a bowl of Mac and Cheese in the middle of the night when one partner is bruised and concussed.  But somehow none of that really matters, because it feels perfect anyway. 

He tells himself he’s going to spend the next day marathoning Die Hard to build up some macho points, because he’s tossing the ones he’s currently got right out the window.  “I love you too, Cas.” 

This time Castiel leans in for the kiss.  It’s tender and sweet and perfect.  When he leans back, he’s grinning.  “What movie should we watch after dinner?” he asks softly. 

Dean blinks at the sudden change in subject, and then he laughs.  “Are you up for some Die Hard?  We'll keep the volume low.” 

They make it to the end of Die Hard two before Dean finally let’s Castiel fall asleep.  The couch has just enough room for both of them, so Dean just turns off the TV and pulls Castiel closer before going to sleep himself.


	24. Chapter 24

Sunlight filtering through the curtains wakes Castiel with a start, his heart pounding because he knows he is late.  His alarm hasn’t gone off, he’s slept in, Hannah isn’t able to open the bakery by herself yet, and she’s probably going to be waiting outside in the street waiting for him.  Shit, he needs to get up, to get going- 

Despite the sharp pain throbbing at the back of his head and neck, he tries to scramble out of bed, but his limbs are so thoroughly tangled with Dean’s that he’s not going anywhere.  Especially when Dean snuffles, and pulls him closer. 

Resisting a sleepy and cuddly Dean is nearly impossible, because Dean turns into a tentacle monster in his sleep.  Castiel gives up trying to escape and sinks back into the comfort of limbs, blankets, and pillows.  The headache eases almost immediately and he breathes out a shuddering sigh. 

The memory of last night’s misadventures eventually creeps through his aching head.  Well at least he knows why his head feels like it was hit by a bat, and it’s not even a metaphor.  He closes his eyes against the steady thumping as he pieces together the events.  He’s pretty sure they fell asleep on the couch, and he has no memory of making it to the bed.  He wonders if Dean carried him, or if he just doesn’t remember waking up long enough to hike up the stairs himself.  

He opens his eyes again, and looks at his sleeping boyfriend.  The dim morning light outlines Dean’s golden features and makes his long eyelashes look even darker against his skin.  He’s really damn cute when he’s sleeping.  He looks younger, and his hair is mashed flat in some places, and spiked in weird directions in other places.  Castiel manages to free a hand and he traces lines between the freckles scattered across Dean’s skin. 

Dean’s face scrunches up under the touch, and his beautiful green eyes blink sleepily, once, twice, before focusing on him.  A smile spreads across his features, and it’s like watching the sun rise.  Castiel feels like he should look away so he isn’t blinded by the brilliance of it, but he can’t. 

“Mornin’, Cas.” 

Castiel slides his fingers from the curve of Dean’s cheek to the hair at his temple.  “Good morning, Dean.” He doesn’t want to break the peaceful moment, but the room is gradually growing brighter.  “We should get up.  I need to go to the bakery.” 

Dean pouts.  Actually pouts.  And somehow he manages to wind himself even tighter around Castiel pressing his eyes against Castiel’s cheek.  “Gabe will handle it.” 

Castiel vaguely remembers the conversation he had with his brother last night before leaving the hospital.  His mind had been foggy, and the pain throbbing through the back of his skull had been distracting, so it’s no wonder he didn’t remember Gabriel promising to take care of things while Castiel recovers from his injuries.  The ache is still there when he turns his head on the pillow and he winces, going still.  “I forgot.  Head injury, you know.” 

Dean leans back again, and his eyes are narrow with concern.  “How do you feel?  Do you need anything?  It’s been long enough that you can take another pain killer if you need it.” 

Pain medication sounds like a good idea now that Dean has mentioned it, but it can wait for a moment.  He scrapes his nails against Dean’s scalp, smiling slightly when Dean’s eyelids droop.  “I’m fine for now.” 

A pleased sound rumbles up from Dean’s chest and he tilts his head into Castiel’s touch like a happy cat.  Castiel is unable to resist the urge to taste his lips.  He doesn’t even try. 

Dean’s mouth opens under his own, and their lips drag together in a languid kiss.  It melts into a second kiss, then a third.  Castiel stops counting, and just enjoys each gentle touch of Dean’s plush lips against his own.  He’s barely aware of his hands as they begin to explore the skin of his lover.  His fingertips trail over sleep-warm flesh, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. 

He definitely notices when Dean’s hands go exploring though.  His palm is hot against Castiel’s hip, and it leaves a tingling trail behind as it slides down the outside of his thigh.  Castiel allows Dean’s touch on his knee to shift him until he’s half lying on his side, but with his knee propped up so his legs are spread.  He gasps as Dean’s hand slides back up the inside of his thigh and cups him through his borrowed silk boxers.  The thin cloth is hardly a barrier, but Castiel wants it gone.  He whines low in his throat and rolls his hips into Dean’s touch. 

“Shh… I’ll take care of you,” Dean murmurs into the kiss just before he begins to squirm out of Castiel’s grip. 

“Dean,” Castiel gasps in protest. 

His plea is ignored as Dean kisses his way down Castiel’s body, disappearing under the quilts. 

His breath catches in his throat when Dean nuzzles his hard dick through his boxers, then mouths at it over the silk. 

The pain in his head is completely forgotten at this point, at least until he tries to roll onto his back.  He hisses and goes tense, rolling back until he’s partially on his side again.  No matter how soft the pillow is, any pressure at all on the back of his head is too much. 

Dean’s head pops up, and he lifts the blanket to peer at Castiel from the shadows.  “You okay?” 

Castiel doesn’t nod because he’s too busy trying to will away the thumping pain.  “Forgot about the head injury,” he grits out. 

“I should stop.  You’re in no condition-” 

“Dean Winchester, if you don’t suck my cock, I’m going to be severely disappointed in you.” Despite the pain, Castiel’s dick is still hard under the damp silk and it twitches in anticipation. 

There’s laughter in Dean’s voice when he replies.  “Well alright then, can’t have that.” 

And then he’s freeing Castiel from his boxers and his mouth is hot and wet and sinful.  Castiel let’s out a broken noise at the feel of Dean’s tongue teasing him.  His hips start to rock when Dean sucks him down.  All of the pain in his head and his body fades away, and all Castiel can feel is the way his dick slides between Dean’s lips, and the way his skin burns under Dean’s touch. 

Dean’s name is a prayer on Castiel’s lips when he finally tips over the edge. 

“Feel better?” Dean murmurs as he moves back up and settles himself on the mattress next to Castiel. 

Castiel’s eyes had fallen closed as the endorphins from his orgasm swept through him, but now he cracks them open and takes in the sight of his lover.  Dean’s hair is even more wild and spiky, and his lips are red and swollen.  His skin is flushed, and his eyes are dark with arousal.  But he’s relaxed into the pillow, and doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to take care of his own needs despite the fact that he’s rock hard against Castiel’s thigh. 

“Yes,” Castiel answers groggily.  His head is beginning to feel like it’s stuffed with cotton, and sleep is tugging at him again.  But he shifts further onto his side and slides a hand between their bodies until he can rub the heel of his hand down Dean’s dick, cup his balls gently for a brief moment before sliding back up to palm the leaking head through Dean’s shorts.  He smiles at Dean’s sharp inhale.  “But what about you?” 

Dean reaches down to catch Castiel’s wrist in a loose grip, and his next words obviously pain him.  “Cas, you don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” God, does he ever want to.  Watching Dean fall apart under his hands and his mouth is as satisfying as creating the perfect pastry, maybe even slightly more so. 

“You look like you’re ready to fall back to sleep,” Dean protests weakly.  “And I gotta get up for work soon…” He trails off with a moan when Castiel sneaks his hand into the waistband of his boxers and wraps it around his dick, skin to skin. 

He certainly can’t do much right now.  His headache is starting to come back, along with other aches and pains that Castiel wants to ignore, like the bruising in his knuckles from the fight with Michael.  But a handjob is well within the realm of possibility.  “Soon is not yet,” Castiel murmurs as he begins jacking Dean’s dick in slow strokes, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. 

Dean gives in with a groan and a thrust of his hips. 

Castiel pulls his hand free and holds his palm up to Dean’s mouth, smiling when the other man licks it several times without being asked.  When his skin is slick, Castiel burrows his hand under Dean’s boxers again and uses every trick he has learned that makes Dean come undone.  He watches, fascinated as Dean’s features shift with each stroke of his hand. 

To his pleasure, Dean stares right back at him.  Castiel loves it when Dean watches him so closely during sex.  It means he’s seeing _him_ , and allowing himself to be pleasured by a man.  In anyone else, Castiel would not see that as significant, but he cherishes Dean’s acceptance and openness about his sexuality since it is still so new. 

Dean comes suddenly, arching into Castiel and crying out.  Castiel strokes him through it, enjoying how the other man shudders and whimpers until it is too much and he pulls away.  Castiel brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks each one clean, still watching Dean as he relaxes back into his pillow. 

“That should not be so hot,” Dean mumbles.  

“Why?” Castiel asks around his ring finger. 

“Because I really need to get the fuck out of bed and not think about you sucking my spunk off your hands.” Dean’s words are underlined when his alarm goes off, and he raises an eyebrow at Castiel in a silent _see?_ before he rolls onto his back and reaches for his phone to silence it.  Once it’s stopped he rests it on his chest and turns his head on his pillow to smile at Castiel.  “Duty calls.” 

Castiel sighs and nestles further under the blanket, pressing his face into Dean’s shoulder.  

“I can call out-” 

As much as Castiel would love to spend the morning lounging in bed with Dean, he can already feel himself being pulled back into sleep and there’s no reason for Dean to lose a day of work for him.  “No, you go.  I’ll be fine.” 

He feels Dean’s lips against the crown of his head.  “You sure?” Castiel nods.  He can always call Gabriel if he needs anything. 

Dean still hesitates for a moment before he runs a hand over Castiel’s shoulder and presses another kiss to his hair and gets up.  Castiel watches him with one eye as he moves around the room, until sleep finally wins.  He doesn’t feel the soft kiss Dean presses against his temple, and he doesn’t hear the door downstairs shut softly when he Dean leaves for work. 

It’s a few hours later before he wakes to a low level buzzing.  He opens his eyes, but when he lifts his head and pain lances from the back of his skull down through his neck and shoulders, he hisses and closes them again.  The buzzing stops while he takes a breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.  The headache is much worse than the first time he woke up. 

The buzz starts up again, and he realizes it must be his phone.  Lifting his head again is less painful when he does it slowly.  He’s facing the bedside table, and he smiles when he sees the full glass of water and the orange bottle with his name printed on the label.  Next to it is his phone. 

Whoever is calling can wait.  Castiel sits up carefully, and reaches for the pain pills and the glass.  He swallows down one of the pills with all of the water.  It feels good on his throat, and he sighs, relieved to quench a thirst he hadn’t realized was there until now.  He knows it’s too soon for the painkiller to start doing its job, but he already feels the headache beginning to recede. 

When he feels capable of handling a phone call, he reaches for his phone.  Both missed calls are from his brother Gabriel.  Curious to see what he wants, he taps his name and puts the call on speaker before resting the phone on his knees. 

“Hey, Cassie! How are you feeling, bro?” 

“Like I’ve been hit in the head with a baseball bat.” His voice is full of gravel and he winces, thinking of how he must sound. 

Gabriel’s warm chuckle floats up from the phone’s speaker.  “Well at least your sense of humor didn’t get knocked loose.” There’s noise in the background, what sounds like broken glass falling into a container.  He must be at the bakery right now, cleaning up.  “Anyway, I just called to check in you, kiddo.  Make sure you’re alright.” 

Castiel smiles down at his phone.  Gabriel might be something of a dick, but he is a good brother.  “I am, thank you.” 

“Whew, good.  I didn’t want to have to call mom and tell her that her baby boy died of a knock on the head.” 

It’s a relief to know that Gabriel is keeping this whole fiasco to himself.  The last thing Castiel wants or needs is for his overprotective mother to get wind of it.  She would use it as an excuse to talk him into selling the shop and moving back home until he can get a “proper” career.  Not that he would allow her to convince him to do that.  Michael turning out to be a psycho has nothing to do with the success or failure of Castiel’s business.  Money will be tight while the shop is closed, but it probably won’t be any worse than the first few months the shop was open before word started going around that it existed. 

“It would just give her an excuse to tell everyone she was right about something,” Castiel jokes before switching to the topic he’s really interested in discussing.  “Are you at the bakery right now?” 

“Sure am.” Gabriel goes on to tell him about the cleanup effort.  Alfie and Hannah both showed up to help, cleaning up most of the broken glass while Gabriel knocked the dents out of the steel countertops in the kitchen. 

They lost a little bit of the food inventory, but most of the damage is to the glass in the front because Michael didn’t have time to do much before he was chased out by a Good Samaritan.  Castiel makes a mental note to bring the man a box of treats as a thank you when the store reopens. 

“I’ve called the insurance company and started the claim,” Gabriel explains.  Castiel is impressed to hear him speak so seriously for such a long period of time.  He actually sounds responsible.  “And I’ve got an appointment to have some estimates done on replacing the windows and the display cases later this afternoon.  If everything goes well, we should have this place back up in running in a few days.” 

Castiel swallows against the lump in his throat.  “Thank you, Gabriel.” 

“Don’t sweat it, little brother.  I got this.” 

Despite the brush off, Castiel can tell from his brother’s tone that he’s probably getting a little emotional about the conversation as well.  It’s rare for anyone to appreciate Gabriel’s efforts.  It probably has something to do with the fact that most of the good things he does for people are done anonymously because he’s uncomfortable with praise.  Castiel knows this about him though, so he always makes sure to show Gabriel how thankful he is to him, even for little things like staying a little late on busy days, or ordering the next week’s supply of ingredients if Castiel is too distracted to take care of it. 

Maybe that’s why they’ve always been so close.  No matter the reason, Castiel is fairly certain that he is Gabriel’s favorite sibling.  The feeling is mutual. 

“Oh hey, kiddo, gotta go.  The window guys are here.  You take care of yourself today alright?  Call me if you need anything.” 

Castiel agrees, and barely gets a goodbye in before Gabriel hangs up.  He laughs softly because he’s sure that the moment was just getting a little too serious for Gabriel and he just needed to get off the phone. 

He thinks the painkillers are starting to actually kick in because he’s starting to feel a little fuzzy around the edges, and the pain in his head has receded to a distant thrum.  His stomach feels a little upset, and when he picks up the orange bottle and scans the directions again, he grimaces. 

They’re supposed to be taken with food, and he hasn’t eaten anything since his meal with Dean in the wee hours of the morning. 

Luckily the pain doesn’t seem to be hampering his movements anymore.  He pulls himself out of the comfort of Dean’s bed and shuffles across the room, scratching idly at his belly.  He stops at the dresser to pull out a change of underwear, sweats, and a t-shirt then makes his way slowly into the bathroom.  Between the lingering pain in his head and the painkillers making their way through his system, he doesn’t fully trust himself to move quickly. 

He takes a long hot shower, letting the water spray down between his shoulders and relax the muscles there, and he doesn’t get out until he’s run out all the hot water.  Then he dries and dresses and goes downstairs.  He’s hungry so he makes a sandwich with what he can find in Dean’s fridge, then shuffles into the living room to settle on the couch. 

It feels a little strange being alone in Dean’s house, but not uncomfortable.  Last night had been different while Sam and Jo were visiting because he felt like they were all guests in Dean’s space.  But now that he’s alone, and flipping on the TV to find something interesting to watch on the Cooking Channel, it almost feels like he belongs there. 

Not long after he finishes his sandwich, he gets a text from Dean. 

_stopped by the bakery to check up on things_  

Castiel taps out a reply.  _How does it look?_  

_gabes got the windows boarded over but the place is pretty much cleaned up and looking good_  

Thinking of the windows makes Castiel sad.  _Michael destroyed the Christmas lights :(_  

_yeah that fucker dont worry cas we can redecorate_  

Castiel smiles.  He likes it when Dean says things like that with a “we”. 

They chat for a few more minutes about lunch and what time Dean will be home.  Then Dean has to get back to work, and Castiel is left to his own devices again. 

Boredom quickly begins to nag at Castiel and he gets up to wander around the house.  He’s briefly tempted to go next door and see if Jo is home, but decides against it.  He’s sore and feeling a little bit glum, and he doesn’t want to impose on her with his current melancholy attitude. 

He finds himself standing in Dean’s office, and his eyes land on the box near the door with the papers he salvaged from his notebooks.  Dean had suggested in passing that he really should make a backup of them, or at the very least put them down in new notebooks.  He’d even offered Castiel the use of his computer if he wanted to make a digital version of them. 

Castiel eyes Dean’s desk.  The dual monitor setup makes the computer look a little bit intimidating - he’s never been a techy guy, and only owns a smartphone because it doubles as an MP3 player - but he’s sure it can’t be that hard to figure out.  So he shoves the box across the floor with his foot until it’s next to the desk, and he seats himself in Dean’s desk chair. 

Touching the mouse wakes up the machine, and both screens light up.  Castiel blinks in surprise at what he sees.  One screen has a window up with a list of files with names like _SPN Pt.1_ and so on.  The other screen appears to be some kind of editing program with a picture in progress. 

Recognizing Dean’s art, Castiel leans closer to see if he can make sense of the messy lines and empty chat bubbles. 

It looks like a comic.  There isn’t any color to it yet, but he recognizes Dean and Sam in one panel, and in another panel a little lower he sees… 

Castiel squints.  Is that… _him?_  

The character is looking up at the two brothers, and smiling like he’s proud of something he’s done.  He’s wearing a familiar trench coat that makes Castiel smile when he recognizes it.  He’d never been able to properly fix the cut in the sleeve and he’d ended up discarding it.  But Dean has illustrated him in this comic with the trench coat, and Castiel is touched that he remembered the details of it so well. 

He’s also intrigued by the fact that he is being portrayed in one of Dean’s comics.  Despite the lack of dialogue for the scene, it appears that the brothers know him, which means he’s probably been in the story for a little while at this point.  Curiosity has him turning his attention back to the open folder with all the numbered files.  He hovers the mouse pointer over the first file but hesitates.  Would Dean consider it an invasion of his privacy if Castiel looked at the rest? 

Dean has never seemed shy about his art.  There have been many times where they relaxed together on the couch, sometimes with the TV on or sometimes not because Castiel is in the mood to read instead, and Dean has pulled out his sketchbook and idly traced out images.  He’s never tried to hide his doodles from Castiel. 

But this feels a little different.  This is more than just idle sketches and silly doodles.  This appears to be the comic Dean started drawing to entertain Sam when they were kids.  How much of this would he consider private? 

Then again, now the comic appears to include Castiel.  Maybe Dean intends to share it with him eventually anyway. 

Chewing on his bottom lip, Castiel stares at the list of files in indecision for another few minutes before he finally clicks on the first one in the list.  The image that comes up is in full color and the speech bubbles are filled.  The scene appears to be set in a child’s bedroom, with a father holding his young son in his arms while they look down into a crib. 

Castiel is quickly pulled into the story.  He opens file after file, gasping sometimes in fear for the characters and sometimes in delight for the snappy dialogue.  Dean claimed not to be a writer, but there’s definitely talent behind his work.  He doesn’t know how long he spends reading before he comes to the scene where “Dean” is rescued from hell by a remarkably beautiful angel wearing Castiel’s features. 

He’s so enthralled by reading about Dean’s rescue from hell that he doesn’t hear the front door open, and he jumps a little when a hand comes down on his shoulder.  Jerking around to see Dean standing behind him nearly blinds him with a headache he’d been ignoring in favor of reading more of the comic, and he hisses at the pain, going very still. 

“Shit, sorry!” Dean kneels down next to the desk chair and runs a thumb over Castiel’s jaw.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.  Are you okay?” 

Castiel squints at him, realizing belatedly that the room is dark other than the light from the monitors.  Dean is still in his uniform, and must just be getting home from work.  Somehow the whole day slipped past him while he was reading.  “Yes, although I believe it is probably time for another pill.  I got distracted,” he waves a hand at the computer, and smiles sheepishly, “and forgot to take my last dose.” 

Dean’s eyes flick to the screen, and a grin spreads across his features when he looks back at Castiel.  He shows no sign at all that he’s upset with Castiel for reading the comic.  In fact he seems excited, which is confirmed when he asks “Do you like it?” 

Refraining from nodding so as not to aggravate the pounding in his head, Castiel responds by smiling instead.  “It is very good.  The art is beautiful, and the story is very riveting.  I was surprised to see myself as a character though.” 

It’s hard to tell in the darkened room, but he thinks Dean blushes when he looks back at the computer screen where his avatar is pointing a loaded shotgun at the Castiel standing in the entrance of the barn.  “All the characters are people that I know.” 

“You made me an angel,” Castiel points out. 

Dean shrugs one shoulder without looking at him.  “It seemed like a good idea.” 

“Who saved you from hell,” Castiel continues.  He’s tries hard not to laugh when Dean squirms a little, but he’s sure his lips are twitching.  It’s a good thing Dean isn’t looking at him, or he will definitely lose his composure. 

“It’s hell being lonely,” Dean says in a small voice. 

Castiel threads his fingers through the short hairs at the back of Dean’s head and leans down to press a kiss against his temple.  “Well then we’ve both been rescued,” he murmurs. 

Dean leans into him.  “Yeah, I guess so.” 

After a moment, Dean pulls back and heaves himself back up to his feet.  He holds out a hand to Castiel.  “How about dinner with a side of painkillers, and a new episode of Doctor Sexy for dessert?” 

Castiel grins, takes Dean’s hand, and allows himself to be assisted into a standing position.  “You would make an excellent Chef, Dean.  With a menu like that, your restaurant would be an instant sensation.” 

Dean laughs.  “Right… Chef Dean, famous for microwaved burritos with cheese melted on top and getting his patrons stoned on Percocet.” 

“My mouth is watering already,” Castiel teases as he follows Dean out of the office and downstairs.  When Dean laughs again, warmth spreads through him at the sound. 

His bakery is going to be okay, Michael is in jail and won’t be able to bother him anymore, and Castiel gets to spend the night with the hottest (in his own high opinion) cop in town.  Life is officially good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking a while to get this chapter out. I know some of you are thinking that a week isn't a long time, but seeing as how I wrote this chapter in 2 days, a week feels like forever to me. Writing has been hard lately since I lost a sibling a little over a week ago. But yesterday my muse began poking at me again, so I know I'll be okay :)
> 
> I've got just a few more scenes planned, including dealing with The John Issue. The story is almost done, and I'm kinda excited :D


	25. Chapter 25

Dean shivers as he enters the warmth of his home and closes the door silently behind him.  He grins mischievously when he sees the house is still dark other than the colorful lights of the Christmas tree Castiel helped him decorate a few days before.  He was half worried that Cas would be awake by now, but the silent darkness tells him that his boyfriend is still conked out.  He'd been drunk as a skunk when Dean walked him upstairs shortly before midnight and tucked him in. 

He's glad the spiked eggnog is keeping Castiel asleep later than usual because Dean desperately needs a few hours of sleep before the Christmas festivities start up again.  He’d gotten up early on the morning of Christmas Eve to prepare for that evening’s party, and the guests had started trickling in around noon, so he didn’t really have time to take an afternoon nap.  After the party wound down, and everyone had left, he went straight out to work on Castiel's present after tucking him in to bed, so he has been awake for nearly twenty four hours at this point. 

After spending the last few hours out in the cold his hands had gone numb, but now the sudden heat in his house makes them ache.  There's no way he can sneak back into bed with Castiel until he warms up a little.  One touch from these hands and Cas would shoot right out of bed like a rocket.  Snuggling up to Cas sounds like pure heaven since he's a human heater, but Dean resists the urge and makes his way into the kitchen where he turns on the water tap and waits for it to warm up. 

He winces when the pipes creak and he cocks his head, listening for movement from upstairs, but he sighs in relief when there are no signs that the noise woke Castiel.  He holds his hands under the warm water until they no longer feel like ice cubes and he's no longer shivering, then he turns off the water and stealthily makes his way upstairs, skipping the third step from the top because it squeaks. 

He feels like a teenager sneaking in after curfew as he tries to change into pajamas without making any noise.  Every sound is amplified; the thud of his feet despite his efforts to stay silent, the soft whump his clothes make when he drops them in the hamper.  He swears even the slide of flannel over his leg hair as he pulls on his pajama bottoms makes too much noise.  When Castiel snuffles in his sleep and shifts into a different position, Dean freezes, heart beating rapidly while he waits to see if he’s been caught.  He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding when it becomes clear that Cas is still asleep, then has to suppress the urge to laugh at himself. 

At least he had the forethought to leave his t-shirt and flannel pants out so he wouldn't have to go digging through his drawers.  They squeak, and he knows for sure Castiel won't sleep through that. 

After he's changed, he slips under the patchwork quilt that mysteriously migrated from Castiel's apartment to Dean's house (along with most of Castiel’s clothes and his coffee maker which is much nicer than Dean’s) about a week ago, moving carefully so he doesn't jostle the bed too much.  Memory foam is great because it doesn't bounce, but he doesn't want to take chances. 

Castiel immediately curls into him, pressing his warm nose against Dean's neck.  "Mmm...wh'time is it?" He mumbles sleepily. 

_Shit_.  Dean is a quick thinker, and not at all above lying, so he subtracts five hours from the numbers glowing on the bedside clock.  "It's half past midnight.  Go back to sleep, babe." 

Castiel hums his agreement and relaxes into Dean's chest.  His body is a welcome wall of heat, so Dean pulls him a little closer, running his fingers through silky hair that he can't see in the dark, and smiles.  He wasn't sure he'd pull off his Christmas surprise, and he's almost too excited about his success to fall asleep, but it only takes a few minutes for his eyes to droop closed. 

When he wakes up again several hours later, daylight is streaming through the curtains and across his face.  He cracks his eyes open and pouts a little when he realizes he’s alone in the bed.  But he’s not surprised because the angle of the sunlight tells him it’s late morning, and Castiel rarely sleeps past sunrise.  A glance at the clock confirms that he’s gotten a little over five hours of sleep. 

It’s tempting to roll away from the window and bury his face in the pillows for a few more hours of sleep, but Castiel isn’t there to cuddle with, and he can distinctly hear voices coming from downstairs.  He can hear Jo singing a Christmas carol, and Sam and Castiel laughing because she’s adding silly lyrics to the song. 

He also smells bacon and coffee, and he’s starving.  That’s the final thing to nudge him into getting out of the warmth and comfort of his bed.  Especially the coffee. 

“Hmm… coffee coffee coffee…” he mutters to himself as he pads barefoot down the stairs. 

He barely glances at the mess left over by last night’s party.  It’s not nearly as bad as what he’s had to clean up in the past.  Now that all his friends are getting older, the parties have gotten calmer.  Everyone just sat around talking and laughing and drinking spiked eggnog while old stop motion Christmas movies played quietly on the TV in the background. 

It was a great party.  Pretty much everyone had figured out that Dean was dating a guy.  There had been some good natured ribbing when he introduced Castiel, but it hadn’t been weird at all.  Castiel had slid right into his social life, interacting with Sam and Jo, and chatting about recipes with Benny.  He’d even gotten into a pretty intense debate, siding with Charlie against Ed and Harry over some obscure Lord of the Rings trivia. 

Dean loves watching Castiel with his friends.  Loves _Castiel_.  And when Charlie cornered him and threatened him with bodily harm if he didn’t keep Castiel, Dean readily promised that she didn’t need to worry.  He had every intention of sticking with this relationship for the long haul. 

He finds his boyfriend at the stove, wearing his favorite bright red Kiss the Baker t-shirt, poking at a pan full of bacon with a spatula.  Jo, whose tiny frame looks far too small to support the mass of her stomach, is sitting on Sam’s lap at the kitchen table and she’s finishing the last Batman themed chorus of Jingle Bells when she notices him. 

She makes a move that would normally be a bounce, but doesn’t quite work because she’s encumbered with a baby, and Sam has to catch her when she almost stumbles.  She doesn’t seem to notice her near spill though as she waddles across the kitchen to wrap Dean in a hug.  “Merry Christmas, Dean!” 

Dean presses a kiss against the crown of her head.  “Merry Christmas, Joanna Beth.” He looks up at his brother.  “Merry Christmas, Sam.” 

Sam unfolds his huge frame from the chair and in two steps closes the space between them.  He wraps his long orangutan arms around both of them.  “Merry Christmas, Dean.” 

Peeking over Jo’s head, Dean sees Castiel watching them with a wistful half-smile.  He let’s go of Jo with one arm and beckons Castiel over.  “Get over here, Cas.  It’s Christmas tradition.” 

Castiel takes the time to move the pan of bacon off the heat before he walks over.  Sam and Jo make room for him, and he’s pulled tightly into the group hug.  He ends up almost nose to nose with Dean, who smiles at him before leaning in for a peck on the lips.  He wants to linger for more, but not with his brother and sister-in-law so close.  He’s sure no one would appreciate that. 

There’s another round of “Merry Christmas” from everyone, and Castiel is laughing by the time they pull away from each other as a group.  “That is an interesting tradition,” he says as he moves back to the stove. 

"It's not really a tradition," Sam corrects with a laugh.  

“It should be,” Dean announces as he makes a beeline for the coffee maker.  He pulls out a mug and fills it to the rim, and not bothering with sugar or cream takes a long sip.  He sighs in appreciation for the bitter brew and how it settles warmly in his stomach. 

“It would get kind of obnoxious when we have big family gatherings,” Jo says as she settles herself back on Sam’s lap.  There’s a plate of cookies on the table that are left over from the previous evening’s party and she picks up one of the gingerbread men and viciously bites the head off.  Still chewing, she grins at Castiel.  “Just wait, you’ll see.” 

“Maybe on the next holiday,” Castiel says as he scoops the bacon out onto a stack of paper towels to drain the oil.  “Dean is braving my family this year.” 

Sam and Jo both turn to Dean with identical wide-eyed shocked stares, and he squirms under their scrutiny.  “What?” 

Jo hides a grin behind her hand, and it’s Sam who answers him.  “It’s just… you’re meeting his family, Dean.” 

“So?” Dean demands.  He stomps over to the table and plops down in a chair and grabs one of the frosted wreath cookies.  “I met Cassie and Lisa’s families when I was dating them.” 

“Not during the first six months,” Sam points out.  And he’s right.  The fucker. 

Dean opens his mouth to argue, but snaps it shut again when he realizes he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.  Instead, he shoves half the cookie in his mouth and chews grouchily and silently. 

“Is that true, Dean?” Castiel asks.  He’s still standing by the stove where he’s started another batch of bacon.  His blue eyes are wide and curious, and a soft smile plays around the edges of his lips.  He looks completely in love.  Seriously, like he’s the lead in a damn chick flick. 

And Dean wants nothing more than to jump him and drag him upstairs and spend the rest of the day basking naked in that love.  But since he has guests and an agenda that requires him to keep his clothes on, Dean just smiles back and hopes Castiel gets even a portion of the same feeling.  Maybe he's the chick in this chick flick, but for right now he doesn't give two shits.  He's damn happy.  “Yeah, it’s true," he answers. 

Castiel seems to get the message, because his eyes light up and Dean isn’t sure he’ll ever get tired of seeing him happy. 

Man, he _can’t_ _wait_ to give Cas his present. 

Castiel announces that breakfast is ready, and everyone fills their plates with scrambled eggs, bacon, frosted cookies, and sliced melon that is also left over from the previous night’s party.  Several minutes pass in silence while they all savor their first bites of Castiel’s cooking, but eventually the question Dean has been dreading comes up. 

Of course it’s from Sam.  “So, have you already told Dad about your plans today, or do I have to play messenger to let everyone know you’re not coming to dinner tonight?” 

Sam doesn’t sound accusing at all, but Dean feels guilty anyway.  He hunches down over his plate.  “I told him.” 

“You told him you’re spending the holiday with your _boyfriend’s_ family?” Sam’s eyes glitter with something dangerous when Dean looks up at him.  “Or is that still a secret?” 

Guilt tears at Dean, and his appetite dies.  He pushes his plate away, and sits back in his chair.  He can’t meet anyone’s eyes when he answers.  “Dad thinks Cas is a chick,” he says quietly. 

He can feel Jo and Sam’s accusing stares like a physical thing and he flinches when Jo snaps “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Dean, you’ve got to tell him eventually-” Sam starts, and it sounds like the beginning of an epic _grow a pair and stand up to him_ speech, but Castiel cuts him off. 

“If Dean doesn’t feel like now is the right time, then it isn’t,” Castiel states firmly.  He reaches across the small space between them, and rests a hand on Dean’s thigh, warm even through the flannel of his pants.  When Dean looks up at him their eyes lock even though Castiel’s next words appear to be intended for Sam.  “I don’t mind.  I know I’m not a dirty little secret that Dean is keeping.” 

Tension drains out of Dean, and he smiles weakly.  “Thanks, Cas.” 

Sam sighs, obviously still frustrated.  But then he smiles at them like he thinks they’re fucking cute or something.  It only gets wider when Dean glares at him.  “You’re right, Cas,” Sam agrees.  “Besides, Dean’s been doing pretty well with this whole thing.  Honestly, we’ve all been waiting for him to have a meltdown over it.” 

“I lost fifty bucks to Charlie,” Jo whines as she chews a piece of bacon.  “I swore it would only be a week.” 

Dean levels a glare at her, and Sam looks offended on his behalf.  When Jo notices, she shrugs and picks up a piece of melon from the bowl in the center of the table.  “What?  This is _Dean_.  He likes to think he’s a stoic macho guy, but sometimes he’s worse than a woman with PMS and no chocolate in sight.  Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder if this new ‘cool with being gay’ Dean is an alien and the real one has been kidnapped and is getting probed by Martians.” 

He stares at her for a moment, trying to absorb her little speech.  There are so many points he wants to refute, but he honestly doesn’t know where to start.  And frankly, he hasn’t had enough coffee to kick start his brain into arguing with her coherently.  He points a piece of bacon at her and settles on “I’m not gay, Jo.” 

She just rolls her eyes and pops the melon in her mouth. 

Castiel chuckles and his fingers tighten on Dean’s thigh.  “He’s really not.  The truth is that I’m a woman with a really flat chest and a hormonal issue that gives me problems with facial hair.” 

Jo pauses in mid-chew and eyes Castiel like she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him.  Sam laughs and reaches across the table with one of his huge paws to pat Castiel roughly on the shoulder.  “Well we like having you around, Cassie.” 

“Oh God, please don’t call him that,” Dean groans. 

The group erupts with laughter, and the tension is broken.  Dean still feels like a bit of a jerk for not telling his dad about who he’s really dating, even if Castiel doesn’t seem to mind, but it’s something they don’t have to deal with today. 

They finish breakfast, and then Jo is dragging Sam into the living room and calling for Dean and Castiel to follow.  They’ve got a Christmas tree in their own side of the duplex, but they take turns putting presents under each other’s trees, and this year it’s Dean’s turn.  He wonders how that tradition will change once Mini Sam or Jo comes into the world, but it’s a thought that makes him smile because he loves kids and can’t wait to spoil the little rugrat. 

Jo carefully lowers herself onto the couch with a wheeze, pressing a hand against her stomach.  “Gimme,” she demands, wiggling the fingers of her other hand at the tree.  Sam settles on the floor at her feet and starts handing out presents. 

Castiel reaches under the tree and brings out a strangely shaped present which he hands over to Dean.  His blue eyes are downcast, and his smile is shy. 

While Jo and Sam are opening the presents they got for each other, Dean tears into the green and gold paper wrapping the package he holds in his hands.  Delight makes him rip the paper away faster when he sees the cover of a moleskine sketchbook.  The package was shaped funny because there is a box of graphite pencils and also a copic marker set.  He grins as he opens the box of pencils and pulls one out, spinning it between his thumb and forefinger.  His current set is getting a little too short from sharpening to be very comfortable, and he’s been thinking of stocking back up again. 

He turns the smile to Castiel and leans in to kiss him.  “Thanks, Cas.  I love them.” 

Castiel’s lips are soft under his own, and Dean wishes his family wasn’t present so he could deepen the kiss and turn it into something that involves removing their clothes.  Reluctantly he pulls back, but not too far.  He rests his forehead against Castiel’s and stares into his eyes.  He’s never felt like he could quite match the shade when he’s coloring his comics, and he’s tempted to pick up painting again to see if he can mix a few oils together to get it right. 

“I have a present for you, but it’s not here,” Dean murmurs.  “You wanna go get dressed and I’ll take you to it?” 

Castiel’s eyes widen and he leans back a little.  “What is it?” 

“It’s a surprise,” Dean answers with a grin.  There’s no way he’s telling Castiel what it is.  After all the work he put into it, he wants to see Castiel’s face when he sees it for the first time. 

Some of his excitement seems to infect Castiel who nods eagerly and pushes himself up off the floor.  He holds out a hand to Dean.  “Let’s get dressed, then.” 

“You’re leaving?” Jo asks, looking up from the baby books Castiel had given her and Sam. 

Sam knows what the gift is, since Dean had asked him to help him get the stuff he needed without Castiel finding out.  He grins up at Dean and answers Jo on his behalf.  “Yeah, and we’d better head out too so we can go to your mom’s place before we head over to Dad’s.” 

Jo huffs, but then she reaches her arms up until Castiel gets the hint and leans down to give her a hug.  She whispers something in his ear that Dean doesn’t hear, but whatever it is seems to please Castiel immensely because his arms tighten around her and he presses a kiss against her forehead. 

Dean is curious about what she said, but he’s far more interested in getting Castiel dressed and out to the car.  He hustles them both upstairs, and fifteen minutes later they come back down fully dressed.  Sam and Jo are still there, and there’s another round of hugs and Merry Christmases before Dean finally gets Castiel outside. 

Once they’re seated in the car, Dean turns to Castiel as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a dark blue scarf.  “Cas, do you trust me?” 

Castiel narrows his eyes suspiciously, which Dean doesn't think should be such an attractive look on him, but somehow it manages to speed his heartbeat anyway.  "Mostly," he answers flatly. 

The answer surprises a bark of laughter out of Dean.  "Screw you, Cas.  I'm serious here." 

There's a hint of mischief in the curve of Castiel's mouth.  "So am I." 

Dean huffs like he's irritated.  "Well you've effectively ruined all my bondage fantasies." 

Now Castiel laughs, and it's warm and rich and Dean knows he's grinning like a dope at the sound, but he doesn't care.  When Castiel finally settles down, he glances at the scarf in Dean's hand.  "I assume you intend to blindfold me so I can't see where we're going.  Does this have something to do with why you snuck out last night and didn't come home until after five?" 

Dean's jaw drops.  "How did you know?" 

Castiel smirks and takes the scarf from him.  "I wasn't as drunk as you thought I was, and you’re not as sneaky as you think you are.  Although warming your hands up before you came to bed was a nice touch.  The rest of your body was freezing though." 

"Why didn't you say anything?" Dean demands.  He's chagrined to realize he sounds like a sulky kid. 

Castiel smiles impishly.  "Because I trust you, Dean." 

He lifts the scarf to his eyes and turns in the seat so Dean can tie it behind his head.  Dean pauses for a moment while he absorbs Castiel's double meaning, and his hands are gentle when he reaches out to tie off the blindfold.  It's humbling to know that Castiel does trust him so much that he doesn't question Dean's absence in the middle of the night, especially since he had reason to be leery after what Michael did to him. 

Once it's tied in place, Dean runs his fingers through the short hairs at Castiel's nape.  "Alright let's go." 

The drive isn't long, and it's familiar to Dean now.  It seems hard to believe that just a few months ago he didn't know about the little bakery with the odd desserts owned by the handsome baker at his side.  He may never have found out about it if Jo hadn't craved a treat so unusual that he couldn't just stop in a grocery store for it. 

As he pulls up in front of Heavenly Delights, he can barely contain his excitement.  Castiel seems to catch on to Dean's mood because he shifts in the seat restlessly, but he doesn't reach for the blindfold or the door handle.  He waits patiently for Dean to get out of the car and help him out, and he stays silent as Dean walks him to the best spot for viewing his gift. 

"Ready?" Dean prompts in a soft whisper near Castiel's ear. 

He only responds with a nod, but Dean can see he's breathing a little fast from the anticipation.  Dean's own heart is pounding as well, and for once he's a little nervous about revealing one of his projects.  His fingers fumble slightly when he reaches up and pulls the scarf away from Castiel's eyes. 

Castiel blinks a few times before he focuses on the bakery in front of him, and then he sucks in a breath.  " _Oh_.  Oh, Dean." 

Dean knows what Castiel sees since he painted it himself, so he doesn't bother looking at it even if he's never seen it in sunlight.  He's too caught up in Castiel's reaction.  His blue eyes are wide with wonder and delight as they bounce over the mural Dean spent half the night painting on the bakery's newly installed windows. 

"I would have done something Christmas themed but I figured that wouldn't really work since you're not reopening the place until tomorrow," Dean says, finally turning to look at the winter landscape made up of frosted treats and cakes and pies covering both windows.  It had been a bitch to pull off in the dark, and it was definitely rushed, but he thinks it turned out pretty good anyway.  “I can redo it in the spring.  Or y’know if you want something for Valentines or Easter or whatever.” 

Castiel doesn’t seem to be paying attention to him.  He steps up onto the walkway and gets closer to one of the windows, lifts a hand but stops just short of touching the paint.  He finally tears his eyes away from the window and turns to Dean.  “You did this in just a few hours?” 

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs.  “Yeah, sorry it’s a bit rushed.  Next time I’ll spend more time on it.” 

“Rushed?” Castiel tilts his head in confusion and turns back to look at the window.  “It doesn’t look rushed.  It’s beautiful.” 

It’s bright and cartoony and a little bit tacky, but if Castiel thinks it’s beautiful, Dean isn’t going to argue.  He gives Castiel a crooked grin.  “I’m glad you like it.” 

Castiel’s smile is wide and toothy when he turns back to Dean.  His cheeks and nose are red from the cold, and his eyes are bright with happiness.  He moves into Dean’s personal space and reaches up to wrap his arm around Dean’s shoulders.  “I love it,” he says just before pressing their lips together. 

The kiss starts out gentle and mostly chaste, but changes quickly as the air between them warms up.  The world around them melts away, and all of Dean’s attention narrows down to the man in his arms. 

“Dean,” Castiel murmurs before nipping Dean’s bottom lip.  “There’s something else you can do for me to make this a perfect Christmas.  Or is it too tacky to ask for another gift?” 

Panic shuts down Dean’s libido.  Fuck, he should have gotten Castiel an actual present.  Painting the bakery windows isn’t enough.  After all, Castiel got him all those art supplies, and even though they were wrapped together, technically they were more than one gift.  He is not good at this relationship crap, and now Castiel is disappointed… “Anything you want, Cas,” he manages to get out through a suddenly tight throat. 

“I’ve always wanted to have sex in the bakery’s kitchen.  What do you think?” 

It takes a moment for Dean’s brain to catch up.  “Uh… are you asking me if I want to?” 

Castiel smiles slowly, and it’s so full of wicked promise that Dean’s libido kicks back into gear.  “Dean, may I fuck you over the counter?” 

“That doesn’t sound sanitary,” Dean says weakly, but it’s not a protest.  Far from it.  Desire curls low in his belly at the mental image of Castiel pressing his face into one of the stainless steel tables in the kitchen and thrusting into him hard and deep, and he has to bite his lip to hold back a moan. 

Castiel’s fingers curl against the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him down so Castiel can whisper into his ear.  “It’s not.” 

Jesus.  The idea that he eats food made in that kitchen only excites him further because apparently he’s a dirty bastard.  Dean nods wordlessly, and then Castiel is pulling away from him and digging out his keys to unlock the door.  Dean is right on his heels. 

They end up being late for dinner with Castiel’s family.  But after Castiel’s mother finishes her ten minute lecture on the virtue of punctuality, Castiel leans over and whispers in Dean’s ear.  “Worth it.” 

Dean just grins, ignoring the disapproving looks he receives from everyone except Gabriel.  _Totally worth it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, why was this chapter so hard? I rewrote it several times before I was finally happy with it. [See?](http://ltleflrt.tumblr.com/post/113390291733/im-struggling-with-chapter-25-of-kiss-the-baker)
> 
> Also, posting the Christmas chapter on Chapter 25 was unintentional, but kind of awesome.


	26. Chapter 26

Going back to work is strange. 

Because he has been staying with Dean while the bakery is being repaired, Castiel has been sleeping later in the mornings.  So between messing up his sleep schedule in general and more specifically, staying up later than he should have because Dean wanted to cuddle on the couch where they could enjoy the view of the Christmas tree, getting up this morning was a bitch.  He really should have stayed at his own apartment last night since he would probably have gone to bed on time, and wouldn’t have needed to get up quite as early, but the place didn’t really feel like home to him anymore.  Every night Dean asks him to stay over, Castiel feels less and less of a connection to the little one bedroom apartment he’s been living in for almost a year.  And besides, how could he tell Dean no when he asked again last night?  After doing such an amazing job dealing with Castiel’s stuck up family, he deserved a reward. 

A slow blowjob in front of the Christmas tree counts as a reward, right?  Dean certainly seemed to think so. 

On top of being overly tired, walking into the bakery for the first time since Michael did his best to destroy it feels odd.  The tiny lobby smells like glue from the newly installed glass.  Also, one of the display cases had to be completely replaced because of the damage to the metal that held the glass in place, and the new case is different than the old.  It still matches the rest of the decor in color and shape, but it looks newer and sticks out.  Or at least it does to Castiel’s eyes.  Anyone else that doesn’t love the place like he does probably won’t notice. 

In the kitchen, nothing needed to be replaced, but Castiel can still see slight imperfections in the metal counters where Michael had hit them with his bat.  Gabriel had done a good job getting the dents out, but the surfaces are still permanently marred. 

Seeing the damage made his chest ache with sorrow up until yesterday.  Now, when he looks at those tiny dents, his heart speeds up and he has to shift a little when his pants become tighter at the memory of bending Dean over the counter that had taken the most damage.  His mind conjures up the image of Dean looking back at him over his freckled shoulder, his eyes desperate, and his cheeks flushed, some of the filthiest things Castiel has ever heard spilling from his kiss swollen lips. 

Castiel has to assign Gabriel and Hannah to kitchen duty and take over running the register so he doesn’t wander around the bakery sporting permanent wood. 

As the display cases are filled with cookies, cupcakes, muffins, and donuts, the smell of glue and cleaning products (which had been extra strong in the kitchen since he and Dean were very careful to sanitize every surface they touched before leaving the day before) fades away to be replaced by the smell of sugar and pastries.  And just like that, the place feels like his again. 

The shop is busier than normal, almost reaching pre-Thanksgiving levels.  What happened to the bakery has been the talk of the town while it was closed.  Or at least that is the impression Castiel gets after he flips on the new Open sign and his first customers start trickling in.  His regulars happily welcome him back, and pause to chat with him as he rings up their purchases.  The story made it onto the local news, and many people tell him how happy they are that he’s alright and that Heavenly Delights is open for business again.  It’s a little humbling to realize how much of a following his little bakery has garnered in the last year. 

He is also on the receiving more flirtatious advances than he has ever experienced in his life. 

“It’s the bruises, bro,” Gabriel explains in one of the brief moments Castiel finds to take a break for himself. 

“They’re almost completely faded,” Castiel argues around a mouthful of apple fritter, which he’s wolfing down almost too quickly to taste because he hasn’t eaten since early that morning.  All that’s left of the bruises from his fight with Michael are a few yellowed patches of skin.  He’s surprised anyone has noticed them at all. 

“Mostly, but you still look like a kicked puppy, and chicks dig that.” 

Castiel wrinkles his nose and doesn’t comment.  He’s not interested in what chicks “dig”.  Or men either for that matter.  He’s taken.  Happily so. 

Business eventually slows a few hours before closing, and Castiel breaths a sigh of relief when the tiny lobby in the front empties out for the first time since the store opened.  He wanders back into the kitchen to see Gabriel and Hannah still hard at work.  “You can probably stop making so many donuts,” he says to Hannah when he sees how many cooling racks she has filled with them.  He’s only half joking when he adds “I’m not sure we’ll be able to sell all of those.” 

Hannah, having just put a rack of donuts into the fryer, freezes and gives Castiel a wide-eyed look of horror.  “Did I make too many?” 

She looks so upset that Castiel immediately crosses the room to put an arm around her shoulders.  “Maybe a few.” Dozen, he thinks as he eyes the racks.  Then he smiles when he has an idea.  “Don’t worry though; I have a plan for them.  Once that batch comes out of the fryer, come help me glaze the rest, will you?” 

Hannah nods eagerly.  She really is a wonderful employee and Castiel is glad Balthazar sent her to him.  Despite the fact that she knew nothing of baking when he hired her, she has picked up everything he and Gabriel have taught her quickly. 

“Gabriel?” Castiel approaches his brother who appears to be taking a break inside the walk-in fridge.  “Do you think you guys would be okay without me for the last hour or so?” 

His brother glares at him.  “Oh so you think that since you’re the big boss you can just take off and get out of cleanup duty?” 

Castiel laughs.  “I’ll come back for that.  I just have an errand I want to run.” 

Gabriel’s glare fades into a fond smile and he shakes his head.  “Nah, don’t worry about it.  You go do your thing, and I’ll take care of the place.” 

“Thanks, Gabriel,” Castiel sighs.  “I owe you one.” 

“I’ll take a raise,” Gabriel retorts as he pushes himself away from the stack of apple boxes he was leaning against.  He claps Castiel on the shoulder as he moves to leave the walk in fridge. 

Castiel is pretty sure that is something he can pull off if business stays the way it is.  While he wishes that his dirty laundry hadn’t been aired all over the TV, he’s smart enough to realize it has brought in new customers and he appreciates the free advertising. 

With Hannah’s help, he glazes six dozen donuts.  He dips some of them in sprinkles, some of them in crushed up candy bars, and adds some bacon crumbles to a few for good measure.  Once they’re boxed up, he calls a goodbye over his shoulder and leaves through the back where Dean’s Impala is waiting for him. 

He always parks it in the back when he borrows it since the area is practically hidden to anyone who doesn’t know where the little alley is that leads behind the row of stores on this side of the street.  Dean is putting a lot of trust in him whenever he hands over the Impala’s keys, and Castiel isn’t going to do anything to break that trust, so protecting the car is top priority.  Especially since he’s the only one besides Sam that Dean allows to drive it. 

Castiel places the boxed donuts in the Impala’s trunk, laying them next to each other instead of stacking them so they won’t fall over while he’s driving.  Then he gets in the drivers seat and carefully stears the car out of the little parking lot.  His destination requires him to pass the front of the bakery, and he grins widely when he sees the painted windows. 

All day he kept glancing at those windows, and each time a wave of love would wash through him.  Any time a customer complimented the artwork he would grin proudly and announce that his boyfriend had done it for him.  It is the best gift Castiel has ever received, and he can’t get over the fact that Dean did that for him, and managed to keep it a surprise. 

It’s part of the reason he’s taking donuts to the police station.  He wants to surprise Dean in return, and he hopes that bringing him a treat while he’s at work will brighten his day as much as the painting has brightened Castiel’s.  Dean doesn’t need six dozen donuts, but Castiel wants to treat everyone at the station.  Many of Dean’s co-workers have helped him recently, especially the ones who sat parked outside Heavenly Delights in shifts to guard it until the windows were replaced, and they all deserve a thank you. 

It’s not long before he pulls into the parking lot of the police station.  He’s in the guest parking just out front, and he can see several people - some in uniform, and some not - standing under the dubious protection of what looks like a smoke shack nearby.  He sends them a friendly wave and a smile as he turns off the engine. 

He gets out of the car, and goes around to open the trunk and then frowns when he realizes he’ll have to make more than one trip to carry all the boxes. 

“Castiel! What are you doing here?” 

His head pops up at the sound of Charlie’s familiar voice and he smiles at her as she jogs across the parking lot toward him.  “Hello, Charlie.  I come bearing gifts.” 

Charlie ambles to a stop next to him and looks in the trunk.  She makes an appreciative noise.  “For me?  Cas, you shouldn’t have.” 

He laughs and swats at her hand when she reaches for one of the boxes.  “They’re for everyone, Charlie.  You need to share.” 

She pouts at him.  “But Cas, I thought we were bros.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes at her, and leans down to stack the boxes in two piles of three.  He lifts one stack out and hands it to her.  “Help me carry these in, and the next time Dean comes in for breakfast, I’ll send him with something extra for you.” 

“Deal!” She accepts the boxes, carefully balancing them in her arms while Castiel gathers the rest and carefully shuts the trunk with an elbow.  “So how’s things at the bakery?” 

Castiel tells her about the extra business the news stories drummed up as he follows her toward the station’s front doors.  She bumps the handicap button near the door with a hip, and they pause while they wait for the door to slowly open.  The back of Castiel’s neck prickles, and he looks around uneasily but doesn’t see anything strange.  There’s a man standing at the smoke shack watching them, and he seems familiar, but Castiel can't see him clearly from this distance.  All he can really tell is that the man appears to be frowning, but Castiel doesn’t pay him much thought.  He shrugs off the feeling, and follows Charlie inside. 

 

*** 

 

Dean straightens in his seat then stretches his neck from side to side, wincing at the multiple pops on tilt of his head.  Desk work has never been his favorite thing about the job, especially since this particular desk is old and small, and he has to hunch over a little to look at the computer monitor.  The chair is complete shit, and sitting in it always makes him long for the expensive cushioned desk chair in his office at home.  Sitting for hours at his own desk still gives him a kink in his neck, but at least his ass is comfortable in the cushioned seat. 

“So Andrea and I are expecting you and Cas on New Year’s Eve,” Benny says from where he sits at his own desk.  He’s tapping away at his phone, which he pretty much always ignores unless it’s his wife messaging him, so Dean assumes Benny’s words are a direct order from Andrea. 

“Hell yeah, man,” Dean responds as he leans back in his chair, grateful for the distraction from the boring part of his job.  “We’ll be there.” 

Benny grins his approval and sets his phone on his desk.  He quirks an eyebrow at Dean.  “You and Cas are becoming a pretty tight item, aren’t you?” 

He can feel the blush spreading over his cheeks, but at this point Dean is kind of used to it.  This is a subject that came up a few times at the Christmas Eve party, and Dean fumbled over the answer like an idiot.  But with Benny it’s easier to speak his mind, because as partners they’ve had each other’s backs for years.  He can tell Benny just about anything without fear of judgment. 

“Yeah,” he answers quietly.  A shy smile tugs at his lips and he glances away from Benny, because being able to talk to him about his relationships and being able to look him in the eye while he does it are completely different things.  “I know it hasn’t been long, but man, I really think he’s it for me.” 

Benny grunts a soft laugh.  “Time ain’t got nothing to do with it, brother.  If it’s right, it’s right.  You know I fell for my Andrea on the first date.  A few months seems like forever to me.” 

Dean nods and looks back at his friend.  “Yeah, I get what you’re saying.” 

“I’m happy for you, Dean.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

The bro moment is broken by a sudden commotion from the doors to the bull pit.  Charlie strides in carrying a stack of familiar boxes.  “What’s up, bitches?  Who’s hungry?” 

Right on her heels is Castiel.  He pauses at the edge of the room, and looks around uncertainly, but when his eyes fall on Dean, he smiles widely.  He lifts the boxes a little to bring Dean’s attention to them. 

The same familiar thrill of excitement that Dean always gets when he sees Castiel runs through him, and Dean bounds to his feet and quickly crosses the space between them.  “Cas! What’s this?” He takes a couple of the boxes from the stack Castiel is carrying, and jerks his head in the direction Charlie went in a silent direction toward the break room before he heads that way himself. 

Castiel falls in next to him.  “Hannah went a little overboard with the donuts and I figured instead of letting them go to waste, I’d bring them in as a thank you gift to your co-workers.” 

In the break room, Charlie has already set down her own burden, spreading the boxes over what little counter space there is.  Dean sets his boxes on one of the rickety tables, and turns a grin to Castiel.  “Thanks, man.  That’s awesome.” 

Castiel beams at him and sets the last box down on the same table.  “Well, you know me.  I like to keep the cops happy.” 

Neither of them pays any attention when Charlie rolls her eyes at them and walks to the break room door to holler out to everyone to come get a donut before she steals them all and sneaks them down to the forensics lab. 

“Well you’re doing a good job of it,” Dean says with a smirk.  He steps a little closer, narrowing the space between them.  “The guys’ll love you when they get a’load of this spread.” 

“What about you, Dean?” Castiel’s voice has dropped an octave, sounding rougher, and sexy as fuck.  “Am I doing a good job of making you happy?” 

Ignoring the people filing in to get their share of the treats, Dean tilts his head toward Castiel’s.  “Oh hell yeah.” 

The donuts smell like heaven, but Dean isn’t interested in them at the moment.  Not with Castiel right in front of him and smiling at him like that.  Like he’s something incredible.  Someone special.  Like Dean hung the moon.  Like he wants Dean to kiss him. 

Okay, that last bit may be Dean projecting, because he really wants to kiss Cas.  He doesn’t even care that there are other people in the room. 

He leans down and presses his lips against Castiel’s, delighting in the way they twist under his in a familiar kiss.  Castiel’s lips are dry, but soft and warm, and when Dean runs his tongue along them, they taste like apples and cinnamon. 

“Get a room, you two,” Charlie teases from nearby.  Her words are garbled; her mouth is probably full of pastry. 

Dean ignores her and lifts a middle finger in her direction, which earns him a few laughs from around the room. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Dean?” 

The laughter is cut off suddenly by the angry voice of John Winchester, and Dean jerks away from Castiel.  He feels all the blood drain out of his face when he his father standing just inside the break room’s doorway.  Angry disgust mars his features, and it’s not a completely foreign expression.  It’s the same one he always wears when he is disappointed in Dean for something. 

“Dad, I-” Dean cuts off, unable to speak under that familiar glare.  It has been a while since he’s seen it, but it still slices through him like a ginsu knife.  _Cuts through tomatoes, soda cans, and the tender hearts of Sons That Have Disappointed Their Fathers!_  

The old mantra that he’s carried with him through childhood suddenly starts going through his brain.  _Be a man.  Grow up.  Quit being a child.  Don’t be a girl._  

It goes on and on, and it is eerily similar to John Winchester’s voice. 

The room is silent, which only makes the words clattering around inside his skull seem louder.  Dean takes a step back from Castiel, but because his attention is completely centered on his father, he misses his boyfriend’s soft gasp. 

“I don’t know if this is some kind of prank or what,” John growls, “But you’d better hope it doesn’t get back to your girlfriend.  She’s going to think you’re gay, and it’ll screw things up for you for sure.” 

“It’s not a-” Dean’s voice is barely a whisper, and when it cracks, he clears his throat.  But his voice is still low and weak when he tries again.  “That’s not what’s going on, Dad.” 

John’s scowl deepens, and he turns it on Castiel.  Apparently he has decided that Dean isn’t worth wasting his time on anymore.  “What were you doing driving Dean’s car?” 

Dean’s body jerks slightly, and his eyes widen.  John saw Castiel in the Impala?  Shit, there is absolutely no chance of salvaging the girlfriend story now.  Then again, getting caught making out with Castiel is a pretty big red flag, and he’s honestly surprised that his dad hasn’t figured out Dean’s little white lie yet. 

Or maybe he has.  He’s looking at Castiel as if he’s dog shit he found on the bottom of his shoe while he waits for an answer. 

Finally tearing his attention away from his dad, Dean looks at Castiel.  Seeing his stricken expression breaks something in Dean’s chest. 

“Dean let me borrow it,” Castiel answers simply and calmly.  He turns to meet Dean’s eyes, and his expression is brimming with unspoken apology. 

Fuck, Castiel blames himself for this.  Dean can practically hear the thoughts going through his mind.  _If he hadn’t shown up at the police station, if he hadn’t borrowed Dean’s car.  If if if…_  

“And why would he do that?  He doesn’t let anyone borrow his car.” John pauses, and then turns the question in another direction.  “Dean?” 

Suddenly Dean is angry.  He’s fucking livid.  His father is a homophobic asshole.  He’s only nice to Charlie because “lesbians are different”.  Castiel doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.  He doesn’t deserve to be questioned like a criminal because Dean let him borrow his car, and he certainly doesn’t deserve to be treated like a child caught misbehaving just because Dean kissed him in a public place. 

Dean doesn’t deserve it either. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Dean says in answer to John’s prompting.  Unlike when he tried to speak before, this time his voice is firm and unwavering.  He speaks clearly and loudly, probably too loudly, but he needs John to hear him and to hear the surety in his words.  “Castiel is my boyfriend, and I spent Christmas with him and his family yesterday.  We’ve been dating since November.  He spent the night at my place last night, and I let him borrow the car so I didn’t have to get up at stupid o’clock this morning to drive him to work, since he doesn’t have his own car.” 

The room is dead silent, although from the corner of his eye, Dean sees Charlie do a little fist pump.  At his side, Castiel shifts and Dean reaches out to rest a hand low on his back, hoping to offer comfort in the tense situation.  He closes the space he put between them when John showed up.  He feels Castiel lean into him, and it gives him a little more strength.  Just enough to hold John’s gaze across the room without flinching. 

John is staring at him like he doesn’t understand a word he just said.  Several heartbeats later, he finally speaks.  “You’re not gay.” 

_I’m a little bit gay,_ he thinks, and his lips quirk up.  “No, I’m not gay.  I’m bisexual.” 

His dad huffs and rolls his eyes.  “That’s not even a real thing, Dean.  College girls looking for attention and queers who aren’t ready to come out of the closet are ‘bisexual’.  You’re either straight or you’re gay.” 

Dean’s stomach turns when he realizes that John’s belief is exactly what Dean used to think just a few months ago.  Definitely an example of Nurture over Nature.  “No, Dad.  I’m bisexual.  I’m also into wearing panties, and eventually I’m going to talk Cas into some kinky shit involving handcuffs  and safewords.” 

Soft laughter breaks out around the room, but it’s quickly stifled when John turns his glare on the other occupants. 

“Panties?” Castiel asks softly.  He sounds worried, but there’s a thread of humor in his tone.  “You’ve never mentioned that before.” 

“I was working up to it,” Dean answers him in an aside.  His attention is still focused on John though. 

John’s gaze comes back to him, and he let’s out an exasperated breath.  “Okay, joke’s over, Dean.  Come to my office, we need to talk.” 

“It’s not a joke, Dad,” Dean insists.  “And if we’re going to be talking about anything other than work, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Dean-” 

“No, Dad,” Dean snaps.  “I’m not faking this.  Castiel is my boyfriend, and I’m really fucking lucky to have him in my life.  You need to get that through your head, and you need to do it now, because I don’t have time for your homophobic bullshit.” 

John’s face goes red, and Dean knows he’s in for it when his dad steps further into the room.  “You listen here, boy.  I don’t know where this sudden attitude is coming from, but I won’t put up with it, do you hear me?” 

In the past, Dean would have ducked his head and hunched his shoulders.  The submissive movements usually appeased John’s temper, but at the moment Dean doesn’t want to appease him.  This time he wants John to back down instead. 

He stands his ground and stares straight into John’s eyes without flinching.  “If you don’t like it when I talk to you like a grown ass adult - like an _equal_ \- then you can just turn around and walk away.” 

There’s a few gasps.  John is a scary bastard, and most of the younger cops and even some of the older ones are wary of his temper.  The only person that talks to John the way Dean just did and gets away with it is Captain Singer. 

He hears Zeddmore whisper, “Do you think maybe we should go get the Captain?” 

John’s eyes snap to the young man, who gulps and tries to shrink back into the wall.  But his attention comes back to Dean immediately.  “I didn’t raise a fairy.” 

Dean feels Castiel stiffen next to him.  He’s not surprised at what happens next. 

“You raised a wonderful man.  He’s kind and good and righteous.  He’s brave, and takes care of the people he loves, and the people he doesn’t even know that he promised to protect and serve.  He’s funny, and creative, and worthy of friendship and love.” Castiel pauses to take a few deep breaths as if he’s trying to control himself.  His voice is almost dangerous when he speaks again.  “You should show him some respect.” 

John looks like his head is about to explode, and Dean has to cover his mouth to hide an amused smirk.  Standing up to his dad is one thing, but outright laughing at his reaction to Castiel’s words would be suicidal.  But he does stand a little straighter, and his chest swells with pride for Castiel.  Standing up to an angry John Winchester requires some huge cojones. 

And it feels pretty damn good to know Castiel feels that way about him.  He makes a mental note to thank him later.  Preferably while naked, because Castiel is really fucking hot right now, and Dean would really like to take Charlie’s suggestion from earlier and drag him off to a private room. 

“What in the hell is all the fuss in here?  Don’t you idjits have work that needs doing?” 

Captain Singer - Uncle Bobby outside of work even though they’re not really related - ambles into the tense atmosphere and looks around at everyone like he’s looking at a room full of morons.  His gaze settles on John, and he huffs in irritation.  “What’s got your panties in a twist?” 

“I just came out as bi,” Dean explains before John can answer. 

Bobby only spares him a short glance.  “Good for you, Princess.” He turns back to John and lifts his eyebrows in question.  “What?  Like you didn’t know?  The kid’s always been a little bit gay.” 

For once, Dean isn’t offended by in the least by that line.  He laughs, and relaxes into Castiel’s side.  If Bobby is on his side, he’ll help bring John around eventually.  He doesn’t imagine it’ll be easy, but it won’t be as difficult as it might be without Bobby’s support.  “Thanks Captain.” 

Bobby snorts, and waves a dismissive hand at him.  He turns a glare on everyone else in the room.  “The hell are you idjits doing still doing standing around and gawking.  Get back to work!” 

There’s a scramble as everyone leaves the room, Charlie grinning over her shoulder and giving Dean a thumbs up before she disappears through the door.  John doesn’t look at Dean and Castiel as he turns on a heel and walks away, his back stiff with anger. 

Bobby sighs once they’re all gone, and turns to Dean.  “He’ll come around.” 

“I know,” Dean replies.  He mostly believes it.  If John doesn’t accept his relationship with Castiel, it’ll suck, but Dean isn’t going to give it up just to regain John’s approval.  He values Castiel’s love too highly for that. 

He nudges Castiel forward a little bit, and can’t help grinning like the “idjit” Bobby always accuses him of being.  “Uncle Bobby, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend Castiel.  Cas, this is Bobby Singer.” 

Smiling warmly, Bobby holds a hand out to shake, and Castiel takes it without hesitation.  “Nice to meet you, Castiel.  I promise, most of Dean’s family ain’t gonna give you any shit like John.  The rest of us couldn’t give a rat’s ass if you’re a man, as long as you treat our boy right.” 

“I intend to, sir,” Castiel responds solemnly. 

Bobby snorts and waves at him in dismissal.  “I ain’t ‘sir’ to you.  You can call me Bobby.” 

He turns away from them and peruses the closest open box of donuts and picks out one with crumbled Butterfinger in the glaze.  He takes a bite and smiles around it as he walks out of the room without another word. 

“He likes you,” Dean says as he watches Bobby leave. 

“I’m glad,” Castiel says softly.  He looks up at Dean with wide, worried eyes.  “I’m sorry for outing you to your dad, Dean.  I didn’t mean to do that.” 

Dean shrugs and turns to face Castiel, pulls him into a loose hug, and presses a kiss against his forehead.  “Don’t worry about it.  At least it’s done and over with, and now I don’t have to worry about it anymore.” 

“Do you think he’ll really get over it?” Castiel asks softly.  His hands come up and wrap around Dean’s waist. 

“Probably, eventually,” Dean answers.  “And if not, fuck him.” 

Castiel frowns.  “Dean, I don’t want to come between you and your father.” 

Dean sighs and shakes his head.  “You’re not, honestly.  If he’s got a problem with my sexuality, that doesn’t have anything to do with you other than the fact that you’re my boyfriend and that makes you an easy target.  He’d be pissed at me if I came out and I wasn’t seeing anyone.  And besides, he’s usually pissed at me for something.  Last time he caught me working on my comic, he said the same thing.  That he didn’t raise a fairy.  I should have told him off then instead of putting my notebook away.” 

“That’s awful, Dean.” 

“He’s not a great dad, but he could be worse,” Dean says.  Sure, he wishes that John were better, instead of just “not as bad as he could be”, but that’s the hand he’s been dealt.  Maybe things would have been different if Dean's mother hadn't died and left John alone with two boys to raise while he was too grief stricken to do it right.  Or maybe it would have been the same.  He doesn't know for sure.  All he knows is that John is family, and Dean loves him, but as of right now he’s done trying to please him. 

He doesn’t really want to think about it right now though.  He doesn’t want to be angry any more.  He’s alone in the break room with Castiel, with the smell of donuts filling the air, and honestly he’s pretty fucking happy at the moment because Bobby stood up for him, Cas stood up for him, and he wants to go back to the kissing thing, so he does. 

Castiel smiles against his lips and returns the kiss.  When Dean finally releases him, his blue eyes are sparkling with humor.  “What was that for?” 

“Because I can,” Dean replies.  “And because I love you.” 

Castiel beams up at him.  “I love you too, Dean.” 

Dean grins, and then turns to the boxes of donuts.  He pushes his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.  “What, no pie?” 

Castiel’s laugh is like a healing balm on his heart, sealing over the cracks left in it from the argument with his dad.  “You are spoiled.  You should eat a donut and appreciate it.” 

“I appreciate the fact that you’re trying to fatten me up,” Dean teases.  He looks in the nearest box and sees a chocolate cake bacon donut.  He snatches it up because those ones usually go fast and shoves half of it in his mouth.  His cheeks bulge out as he chews and he waggles his eyebrows so Castiel will laugh again. 

He’s never going to get tired of the sound of Castiel’s joy.  And he’s going to do everything in his power to make sure Castiel’s life is full of happiness and laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What what? Another chapter already??? 
> 
> I have been chomping at the bit to write this chapter. _I have been waiting for 100k+ words to write this chapter._ This chapter was the WHOLE POINT of the story. Well not the _whole_ point, but like a major huge thing. I wanted to write a Dean Thinks He's Straight But Doesn't Have A Big Gay Panic When He Figures Out He's Not story. I wanted it to be cute and fluffy, and I wanted him to be like "FUCK YOU I'M BI" when his dad gave him shit about it. This has been my goal for the last year with this story. 
> 
> Sure, between the first few chapters I wrote last year, and all the stuff I've added since January, it doesn't seem like it's taken me a long time to get here. But I have been thinking about this all the damn time, even as I've worked on other stories. And it's _finally here_! I am so happy :D
> 
> That being said, I am also kinda sad. There's only one more chapter left. I almost don't want to write it. If I leave this as a WIP forever, there will always be the anticipation of the next chapter.... and a mob of angry anons in my inbox, which I really want to avoid, so I won't make you wait too long lol


	27. Chapter 27

_Epilogue - July 4 th_

 

The soapy water is cold, which is a shocking contrast to the summer heat when Dean tosses the soft sponge he's been using to wash his Baby into the bucket and gets splashed.  It feels good though.  He's been out in the sun long enough that he's glad Castiel talked him into putting on sunscreen.  His bare shoulders are probably going to sprout a million new freckles. 

Dean bitches about them, but he doesn't really hate them.  Especially since Castiel loves them and likes to count them with his lips.  Dean may or may not go outside shirtless more often because of it.  It's a secret he'll never tell. 

"You missed a spot," Sam calls from the porch where he's relaxed in the porch swing Dean helped him put up in the spring.  He's got a beer in one hand and his son Adam snuggled against his chest.  Bones is lying at his feet, eyes half closed and panting lazily in the heat. 

Dean just barely resists the urge to check.  He can tell by Sam's smug grin when he lifts his beer to his mouth that he's fucking with him.  "Yeah, your face," he grunts as he strides over to turn on the hose so he can rinse his car. 

Sam gives him one of his lesser bitch faces.  "Dude, that doesn't even make sense." 

"Neither does your face." Dean grins when Sam's glare intensifies, and he turns his attention to Adam who is watching the exchange with wide eyed curiosity.  "Good thing you look like your mama, huh kiddo?" 

Adam's face scrunches up with a gummy smile and he squeals happily, waving his arms and kicking his feet until Sam has to shift his grip so the baby doesn't slip out of his arms.  Dean steps up onto the porch, careful not to step on the dog, and grabs one tiny pink hand which he taps against his own palm in a high five.  "Yeah, your daddy is funny looking, ain't he?" 

"Har har," Sam says dryly.  "He has no idea what you're saying.  He is just excited that you're paying attention to him." 

Dean leans down and presses a kiss against Adam's chubby cheek.  "Cuz I'm his favorite uncle.  Right, kiddo?" 

"I dare you to tell Cas that," Sam says with a smirk as he lifts his beer to his lips. 

Dean straightens and laughs as he hops of the porch.  "Hell no," he grunts as he bends over to pick up the hose.  "Not if I want to keep getting laid." 

Sam's laughter floats across the yard, and Dean turns back to his car so his brother won't see the dopey smile he can tell he's sporting.  Even after seven months, Dean still feels like a giddy teenager when he thinks about his boyfriend.  He's so in love with Cas that he doesn't even mind that Adam usually prefers him to Dean.  He gets it, cuz he also totally wants to be in Castiel's lap whenever he can. 

It's ridiculous.  And awesome. 

He's finished rinsing the car and is buffing the last layer of wax when Castiel and Jo get home from the grocery store.  Dean drops his shammy and trots over to the ugly cream colored Lincoln Continental, glaring at it because he still can't stand seeing it parked next to his beautiful girl. 

Castiel bought it shortly after officially moving from his apartment to the duplex with Dean.  He’d been so proud of it, and all of Dean's arguments about why he shouldn't have bought it instantly died in the face of Castiel's excitement. 

Castiel unfolds himself from the driver's seat and turns to Dean with open arms.  He's wearing a ratty pair of cut offs, pink flip flops, and Dean's AC/DC t-shirt which is too large on him.  Topping the outfit off is a pair of aviators perched low on his nose.  

He looks like sex walking and Dean is a little irritable that they have company coming soon so he won't have time to drag Cas up to their room to fool around for a while.  Especially when Castiel hugs him and Dean gets a whiff of pastries along with the tang of his sweat. 

He'll never understand how Castiel always manages to smell like a bakery even right after a shower, but he sure as hell ain’t complaining. 

Castiel tilts his chin up, allowing Dean a quick peck on the lips before he's pulling away and moving toward the trunk of his car.  "Sorry it took so long.  The stores were packed." 

"That's what you get for not making a shopping list so you could have everything you need before the holiday," Jo calls from the porch where she's confiscated her son and is cuddling him close. 

"You were in charge of the shopping," Castiel points out as he pulls out a few plastic grocery bags and hands them to Dean. 

Jo snorts.  "Details.  But at least I got a shitload of fireworks, right?" 

Castiel rolls his eyes at Dean as he grabs another bag and a box of canned beer.  Dean grins and shrugs before leading the way back into the house.  Once their burdens are set on the counters he snags his fingers in Castiel's shirt and pulls him in close for a proper kiss.  His other hand pushes the aviators up onto Castiel's head so he can see a flash of blue before their lips press together. 

Dean moans quietly when he feels Castiel's tongue run across his upper lip, and he tightens his hold on the other man so he can deepen the kiss.  It's slow and slick and hot as fuck.  They pull apart at the same time and Dean feels himself get caught in the summer-blue of Castiel's eyes. 

"I say we cancel this shindig and spend the day upstairs," Dean murmurs as he slides his hands up under Castiel's shirt and runs his palms over the warm skin of his waist. 

"This morning wasn't enough for you?" Castiel responds with a soft laugh. 

At the time Dean had thought so.  Waking up to a mouth on his dick is one thing, but after Castiel got him off, he'd pulled out the handcuffs and the box of toys they had started collecting around Dean's last birthday and then proceeded to tease Dean's spent body back into a needy frenzy.  When Castiel finally fucked him, Dean was so overly sensitized that he came all over himself with only Castiel's dick in his ass. 

"I'm ready for another round," Dean says with a grin. 

Castiel's hand, which has been resting low on Dean's back slips down to press between his thighs, causing Dean's dick to twitch in anticipation.  His voice is low and rough, and his eyes are heavy lidded when he looks up at Dean.  "If we survive today, and you don't get drunk, we can try to break your record." 

Now Dean's dick is definitely sitting up and paying attention.  It turns out Castiel is a sadistic little fucker because he loves to see how many times he can make Dean come before he's begging for it to stop.  He narrows his eyes at Castiel.  "Isn't it your turn?" 

Dean may have a sadistic streak of his own. 

Castiel grins and pulls out of his arms.  As if he's completely unaffected, he starts taking things out of the grocery bags and arranging them on the countertop.  "We'll talk about it later.  People should be showing up soon." 

As if his words were a cue, Dean hears a car door shut outside along with voices he can't make out through Bones' barking.  Dean reaches down the front of his shorts and adjusts himself.  "Fine," he grumbles.  He gives Castiel a smacking kiss on the cheek before heading for the front door and calling over his shoulder "But it's totally your turn!" 

Outside he finds Charlie on the porch, holding Adam and making silly faces at him while Sam and Jo talk with Benny and Andrea.  Not long after he greets them Lisa pulls up to the curb and Ben comes bounding out of the car to nearly knock Dean over with a hug.  More people show up in quick succession, and soon the front yard isn't enough space to entertain everyone so Dean herds them into the house or to the back yard where there is a freestanding pool that he and Sam bought together shortly after they moved into the duplex.  Their back yards are not separated by a fence, so the space is huge, and perfect for large gatherings. 

It’s taken up by several tables with chairs which are already covered with bowls of fruit and chips and other snacks.  Castiel fired up the grill as soon as the first guests arrived, and now he’s standing over several racks of burgers, hot dogs, and even some chicken breasts for those who want it. 

Dean is pretty slick with a grill, but Castiel’s abilities definitely blow him out of the water.  That’s to be expected since Castiel went to culinary school, but sometimes people forget that he knows how to do anything besides bake.  When anyone ribs Dean about letting his boyfriend take over his grill, he just shrugs and laughs it off.  They’re going to be pleasantly surprised the first time they try one of Castiel’s burgers. 

As the afternoon wears on and more people arrive, Dean’s mood starts to dip.  The yard is packed with friends and family, both Dean's and Castiel's, but the one person Dean is most anxious to see still hasn’t arrived. 

“Don’t worry, boy,” Bobby says, startling Dean who wasn’t aware the older man had snuck up behind him.  “He’ll come around eventually.” 

Dean’s mood is not buoyed by the words, and his shoulders slump.  “You’ve been saying that for months, Bobby.” 

“Don’t make it any less true.” Bobby punctuates his words by slapping Dean on the shoulder before walking away and heading for Jo, probably so he can hold the baby.  The old bastard is such a sap around kids. 

Dean drains his beer in two large swallows and he crushes the can in his fist.  His dad has been avoiding him since he found out about Dean’s sexuality.  He avoids Dean at the station, and only talks to him there when it’s absolutely necessary.  He didn’t even call Dean on his birthday, even though on Sam’s birthday he made a point of showing up to bring him a gift - when Dean wasn’t around to see him of course. 

He’s been ready to give up on his dad for a few months now, but Castiel still insists on inviting John to all their parties and family gatherings.  So far John has never shown up, so Dean’s not terribly surprised that he hasn’t magically appeared today. 

Thinking about it is depressing the fuck out of him, and since Dean doesn’t really want to get drunk, he does the next best thing and goes to get a little comfort from his boyfriend. 

Castiel is still standing near the grill, keeping one eye on it while he laughs over something Jody is telling him.  They met for the first time when Michael tried to get out of the charges Castiel pressed against him.  Once she found out that Castiel was Dean’s boyfriend, she immediately took to him like family and for the first time Michael’s lawyer wasn’t able to get him out of trouble.  Jody nailed Michael’s ass to the wall, and he’s serving time for his actions. 

Dean sidles up to Castiel and slips an arm around his hips.  He doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to interrupt their conversation, but Jody just smirks at him and pats his cheek before walking away.  Dean really loves her. 

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks, turning to face Dean more fully. 

He didn’t come over here looking for sympathy, but Castiel asked, and now Dean can’t hold it in.  He sighs and leans his head down on Castiel’s shoulder.  “He’s still not here.” 

Strong arms come up and surround Dean with Castiel’s strength.  “There’s still time.” 

Dean makes a noncommittal sound and just leans further into Castiel.  He feels like such a fucking kid.  He’s a goddamn adult, and yet when his daddy gets mad at him, he feels like he’s been stuck in the corner, and he doesn’t understand what he’s being punished for. 

Castiel’s hand rubs gently up and down his back, and Dean shivers.  He still doesn’t have a shirt on, and the feel of Castiel’s palm against his skin is soothing in some ways, and invigorating in others. 

“D’aww… aren’t you two adorable.” 

Dean stays pressed up against Castiel, but lifts one hand, middle finger raised to his brother. 

Sam laughs.  “Alright, you two can cuddle all you want, but gimme the tongs so I can dish up a burger for my wife.” 

Since he doesn’t want to deprive their guests of Castiel’s cooking, Dean presses a kiss to the warm skin of his neck and then let’s him go.  He straightens and smiles down at his boyfriend.  “Back to work, Chef Castiel.” 

Dean goes back to socializing, and eventually he’s able to relax.  It’s not the first time his dad hasn’t shown up, and probably won’t be the last.  He might as well get the fuck over it and enjoy the party. 

Jo and her mother eventually take over the grill so that Castiel can spend time with everyone as well, and Dean drags him down to sit in the grass next to him.  Castiel cuddles into his side, and Dean wraps an arm around his waist.  Sam is telling him about the third and last Crowley trial, when a commotion at the back door of the house gets Dean’s attention. 

John Winchester is standing on the back porch, looking around.  His eyes meet Dean’s and he smiles a little.  It’s a strange expression, like he’s uncomfortable.  Dean can’t think of the last time his dad looked like he wasn’t completely confident and in control of the situation. 

“Dad…” Dean breathes. 

There’s no way John could have heard him from across the yard, but something in his expression shifts.  A tension drains out of his shoulders, and his smile widens. 

Dean scrambles to his feet, and hurries across the yard.  He stops a few feet away and scratches at his bare chest.  “Uh… hey, Dad.  Glad you could make it.” 

John nods a little, and his eyes shift to Dean’s side.  “Thanks for inviting me.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Castiel.  He glances over and finds Castiel smiling at John with genuine welcome.  “I hope you brought your appetite.  There is far too much food.” 

Dean reaches across the space between them, and catches Castiel’s hand in his own, squeezing it in a silent message of gratitude.  Castiel squeezes back, and Dean can’t help grinning.  “Cas makes a mean burger.  Better than Ellen’s.” 

“Don’t say that out loud,” Castiel protests, nudging Dean with an elbow.  “I don’t want her to hate me.” 

John laughs.  There is an edge to it, and Dean can see that he doesn’t look completely comfortable, but he’s trying. 

It’s a start.  It’s enough for now. 

“I’ll uh… go get myself a drink first, if you don’t mind,” John says.  When Dean nods his agreement, John claps him on the shoulder before moving toward the cooler.  Conversation in the yard starts up again, and John settles into a chair near Sam who hands Adam over for him to hold. 

It’s a good thing that baby isn’t shy.  He’s been getting passed around all day, and doesn’t seem to be tired of it yet. 

“Well,” Dean says on an exhale as he watches his dad from across the yard.  “That could have been more awkward, but not much.” 

“Hm, I suppose that’s true,” Castiel says thoughtfully.  He looks up at Dean, and smiles slyly.  “I was planning on proposing to you tonight before we started lighting fireworks, but maybe I should wait.  I don’t want to make your father uncomfortable.” 

“Yeah, maybe you shou- wait, what?” Dean’s head snaps around so quick that something twinges in his neck.  He’ll probably regret the movement later, but right now he barely notices. 

“Or I could ask you right now,” Castiel says, calm as fuck, like he’s suggesting they get some of the potato salad before it’s all gone.  But he’s watching Dean closely, gauging his reaction. 

Dean can’t tell if Castiel is joking or not.  He’s got to be joking.  He can’t really mean that he was seriously planning on proposing- 

When Dean only stands there opening and closing his mouth like a fish, something dims in Castiel’s eyes and he sighs.  “I’m kidding, Dean.  Do you want something to drink?  I could-” 

Castiel starts to move away as he’s speaking, and that’s not right.  That is definitely not what Dean wants.  He shoots a hand out and grabs Castiel’s wrist, jerking him back.  Castiel stumbles a little, and ends up pressed chest to chest with Dean.  His eyes are wide and uncertain, and Dean put that look there, and fuck he’s such an idiot.  Of course Castiel is serious. 

And so is Dean.  “Yes.” 

For a moment, Castiel’s eyes narrow with confusion before he catches Dean’s meaning and they shoot wide again.  His teeth flash in a wide grin.  It’s the same one he had when Dean painted the bakery window for the first time, and again when Dean asked him to move in.  It’s excitement, and love, and joy, and it’s shining out of him like a goddamn beacon, and Dean is so, so, so in love with that smile.  “Yes,” Dean says again, quieter, before leaning down to press a kiss to the edge of that smile that he loves so much.  “If you ask me, that’s my answer.” 

A laugh rumbles through Castiel’s chest.  It’s a little higher pitched than usual.  “I, uh… have a ring.” 

“Let me see it,” Dean prompts. 

Castiel’s hands are curled against Dean’s skin, but now he removes one and shoves it in his pocket.  He pulls out a box.  It’s tiny and black and there’s no doubt about what’s inside it.  Castiel steps back and Dean doesn’t want to let go of him, but his fingers have gone numb, and he’s having trouble breathing normally. 

He laughs a little hysterically when Castiel drops to a knee in front of him.  In all his life, he never would have imagined being on the receiving end of a marriage proposal.  It’s weird as fuck and embarrassing as hell because everyone he knows is there, but no one has noticed yet- 

“Holy shit is Cas proposing?” Jo hisses.  The conversation that had picked back up after John’s unexpected arrival drops away again, and the yard is completely silent. 

Dean laughs again.  So much for not being the center of attention.  But when Castiel opens the little box and lifts it to show the silver band inside, all of Dean’s embarrassment fades away. 

“Dean, will you marry me?” Castiel’s voice is low, but firm and determined. 

“Fuck yes,” Dean grunts.  He grabs Castiel’s wrists and drags him back up.  “God yes.” 

Cheers break out around them as Dean wraps Castiel in his arms and smashes their mouths together in a hard kiss.  They don’t break apart until hands start clapping them on the shoulders in congratulations. 

Dean knows his face has got to be bright red, and it’s definitely not a sunburn, because Cas has made him reapply sun block every so often during the afternoon.  But he laughs and accepts people’s good wishes, letting go of Castiel just enough that he can shake hands or accept one armed hugs from his friends and family. 

Charlie practically wraps herself around both of them, and is chattering excitedly about wedding plans - and oh shit, that’s going to be a thing, isn’t it?  - when Dean looks over her head and sees his dad watching from the far end of the yard. 

John gives him a tentative smile, and lifts his beer in a silent toast.  It’s enough to make tears prickle at the back of Dean’s eyes, and he has to get away from this love fest now, or he’s going to completely break down. 

He pulls out of Charlie’s embrace and makes some kind of lame excuse before escaping into the kitchen.  He’s got a grip on Castiel’s wrist, and drags him along behind. 

Thankfully, no one follows.  They all know him well enough to figure out when he needs some space, thank God.  He doesn’t stop until he’s dragged Castiel all the way upstairs and to their bedroom. 

He only intended to find a little bit of privacy so he could breathe, but when he looks at Castiel and sees that he’s sweaty and flushed, and wearing that damn smile, Dean throws all ideas of calming down right out the window. 

In seconds, he has Castiel pressed into the bed.  “It’s definitely your turn,” he murmurs. 

“What about… our…” Castiel sucks in a breath when Dean’s hand finds its way down the front of his shorts.  “...guests?” 

Dean doesn’t answer.  Instead he makes quick work of opening Castiel’s fly and freeing his dick.  With a grin, he dips his head and sucks it into his mouth, moaning happily when Castiel’s hips spasm. 

“No, no, you’re right,” Castiel gasps as his hands curl in Dean’s hair.  “Sam and Jo can play hosts for the rest of the night.” 

Their movements start out frantic and needy, but eventually slow down into something different.  Each touch is reverent, each kiss is tender.  Sometimes they laugh, like when Castiel realizes Dean’s skin tastes like sun block, but mostly they whisper softly or just breathe into each other. 

Much later, when they’re tangled together on the bed in the dark and listening to the fireworks being set off in the street in front of the house, Dean is starting to doze off under the slow stroke of Castiel’s fingers against his skin.  A thought makes his eyes pop open, and he sits up suddenly. 

“What are you doing?” Castiel murmurs as Dean bends over the side of the bed and starts rummaging through their discarded clothing. 

“Getting… Yahtzee!” He sits up and holds the little black box up in triumph.  He opens it and pulls the ring out.  It slides onto his finger easily, and he holds out his hand to admire the glint of silver in the brightly colored light flashing through the curtains from the fireworks. 

Castiel sits up and leans against his side.  “It looks good.” 

Dean turns to press a kiss against Castiel’s temple.  “I love you, Cas.” 

“Love you too, Dean,” Castiel murmurs against his shoulder. 

“We’re totally having pie at the wedding.” 

Castiel laughs.  “Of course.  What flavor?” 

“All of them, duh.” 

“I think that sounds like a good idea.” 

They stay up until long after the fireworks have stopped, discussing wedding plans.  Maybe that’s a little bit gay, but Dean finds that he doesn't mind in the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONE!
> 
> Woo boy, that was a lot of work. I am not writing _anything_ for like a month. 
> 
> *hides mshenko Mass Effect Big Bang project*
> 
> Thanks for reading my sappy little story. All the kudos and comments kept me going when I got frustrated, or cheered me up when I was sad (and I _really_ needed that some days). Your support means the world to me. Thank you :)


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